


The Truth in Potions

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Romance, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-26 14:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12559768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: Sirius Black was dosed with several truth potions over the course of his life. Each of them changed him, and one changed everything.





	1. Prologue: 31st October 1991

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my lovely beta readers, [red_squared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_squared/pseuds/Esinde%20Nayrall) and [phoenixgal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixgal/pseuds/phoenixgal).
> 
> Written for the 2017 RS Games, Team Sirius. My prompt was: "There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart's Desire." - opening line of the novel _Stardust_ by Neil Gaiman

‘Come now, Moony, sit yourself down. You know what day it is.’ Sirius bounces on the balls of his feet as he gestures towards the table.

‘Hallowe’en,’ says Remus. ‘It’s Hallowe’en. Do we need a Muggle-Repelling Charm on the front door, or have you bought sweets?’

Sirius huffs out a sigh. Remus is always so difficult about this. ‘It’s our anniversary.’

‘It is not our anniversary,’ says Remus, rubbing the back of his neck distractedly. 

The denials are familiar enough; all part of Remus’ contention that romance, and sentiment, and the desire for commemoration are all exclusively Sirius’ domain. It’s mostly tongue-in-cheek, a milder echo of the days Remus spent pretending that he didn’t feel, or need, or want love as much as Sirius did.

They both play their parts still, with Sirius as the romantic and Remus the pragmatist. That’s true, so far as it goes, but it isn’t the whole truth.

‘It is so our anniversary and it’s a special one,’ insists Sirius, undeterred. ‘Ten years, Moony. A decade.’

It’s quite extraordinary, really, ten whole years since Hallowe’en 1981 and the chaos that surrounded it, when they turned the world upside down and inside out as autumn turned into winter and everything changed.

Remus' expression softens a little. 'Ten years is something special, I agree. But, at the risk of repeating myself - although I have, in fact, repeated this every year for the past ten years - Hallowe’en isn’t our anniversary. We weren't together at Hallowe’en.'

Sirius waves a dismissive hand. 'Details,' he says. 'And as I've pointed out every year for the past ten years, you haven’t got an alternative so button it.'

Remus just sighs and rolls his eyes, which is tantamount to admitting that Sirius is right before moving on to the next stage of his (utterly predictable) objections.

'Even if it _were_ our anniversary, normal people celebrate their anniversaries with meals out or a shag. They don't indulge in bizarre truth-telling rituals you've designed specifically to torment me.'

Sirius takes a step towards him, taking Remus' hands in his own, and Remus isn't nearly as cross as he makes out because he lets him. ‘You know why we do this. It's appropriate.'

'It's absurd,' mutters Remus, looking away. 'And there's plenty of other things would be appropriate considering what... what happened back then but I don't see you asking for them.'

'Something else you're feeling nostalgic for?' asks Sirius. ‘Would you rather tie me up, maybe slap me about a bit?'

'Merlin's balls,' says Remus, snatching his hands back and turning away.

'Is it less fun if I consent first?' says Sirius. 'I don't mind struggling a bit if that makes it more exciting for you.'

Remus wheels around, looking back at Sirius. 'How do you get worse every year?'

'Practice,' says Sirius. He offers Remus a small, conciliatory smile, because much as the wind-up games are all part of it – their tradition, their history, who they are – he’s no desire to cause Remus any real upset. He lowers his voice to remind Remus, ‘You know why it’s important.’

‘I don’t like remembering what I did to you,’ says Remus quietly. ‘Or how I nearly lost you.’

Sirius shakes his head. ‘You saved me,’ he says firmly. ‘And now I’m happy. I’m with you.’

'Fine,' says Remus, admitting defeat at last. 'Let's get this over with.'

Sirius smiles as they sit either side of the table and refrains from gloating, even though Remus’ acquiescence is as predictable as his objections. Instead, he opens the bottle and pours them both a small measure of clear liquid. Remus picks his glass up and looks at it. 

'Where did you get this from anyway?'

'Nicked it from work,' says Sirius, grinning because it’s a cheery sort of provocation.

'Sirius, you are a _Consultant_ Healer,' Remus admonishes him, right on cue.

'And yet my boyfriend treats me like an idiot.'

Remus rolls his eyes again. They're getting quite the work-out. 'Sometimes I think the more responsible you have to be at work the more ridiculous you become at home, just to even things out.'

Sirius ignores the barb, because it’s not a bad theory. 'Drink up.'

They both empty their glasses. Remus, once committed, doesn't hold back. He always asks first, and the first questions are always the same.

'Do you trust me?' says Remus.

'Completely,' says Sirius, looking him directly in the eye. 'Do you love me?'

Remus smiles back, the first genuine expression he's worn all evening. 'More than anything.'

It still pleases Sirius to hear it, even after all these years. He’s had quite a mixed history with truth potions.


	2. Truth Potion No. 1: July 1976

_Truth Potion No. 1: July 1976. Covertly administered by Orion and Walburga Black. Supplier unknown._

Sirius sat up as straight and still as he could manage, eyeing his father warily and trying not to give anything away. As it happened, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d been summoned to speak with his parents or what it was he should be keeping quiet; he’d barely been home a day, there’d not been _time_ for him to do anything really bad.

‘Have a drink, Sirius,’ his mother said. She pushed a glass towards him, filling the air with the scent of the heavy, musky perfume she favoured. It combined unpleasantly with the background smells that pervaded the house, silver polish and old roses, making Sirius’ stomach turn.

He took the small glass of – sherry, maybe? – and swallowed it down. Some things weren’t worth arguing about.

‘Do you know, Walburga, I bumped into Fawley last week,’ said Orion conversationally from beside the fireplace. He was moving around the room in that faux-meandering way he liked to use to keep Sirius off-balance. ‘He was kind enough to pass along copies of the papers relating the blood traitor’s spawn. They’re all very interested in her abnormality.’

Sirius smirked to himself quietly. Andromeda’s baby wasn’t abnormal and even his parents couldn’t seriously believe she was; they must be sick to their stomachs that a blood traitor and a Muggle-born had produced a child with the sort of astonishing magical gift that none of the family had matched for generations. So much for the superiority of blood.

Walburga snorted but made no comment. Orion carried on, strolling around the table as he spoke. 

‘The file’s actually quite extensive. There are even details of Andromeda’s marriage to that Mudblood. Do you know anything about Muggle weddings? Of course not, it’s hardly a civilized topic. Scarcely anything that could be called a marriage at all – just a few words in front of some Muggle official, no magic, nothing sacred. Oh, there are some documents to sign, but apparently they’ll even allow children to do that.’

Orion stopped suddenly, and leant across the table towards Sirius. ‘Why would anyone permit such a thing?’

‘I think Andromeda told them I was older.’ The words were out before Sirius thought to clap his hand over his mouth.

‘Veritaserum,’ said Walburga, smiling unpleasantly. Sirius wanted to _hurt_ her.

Glancing down, he recognised the document his father slid across the table as a copy of the book he’d signed as witness to Andromeda and Ted’s wedding. It hadn’t occurred to him to use a false name – his parents’ fear and ignorance of Muggles had made the prospect of them ever finding out about Muggle proceedings and their records laughable. Besides, he hadn’t wanted to; he’d gone to support Andromeda, not taint her day with deceit.

‘You not only attended this… this _event_ , you actually took part in it?’ said Orion.

‘Yes.’ Sirius smiled back. He wasn’t ashamed of it.

‘You later claimed to have had no knowledge of Andromeda’s plans.’

‘I lied.’

‘Did you attend alone?’ asked Orion. ‘I hope you didn’t make another attempt to corrupt your brother. Or Narcissa.’

Sirius let out a hollow laugh. _As if_. ‘I went alone.’

It was strange; he didn’t even mind so much that they’ve given him Veritaserum. Andromeda and Ted’s wedding shouldn’t have been a secret – it had been a wonderful, joyous occasion, a triumph of love over petty bigotry and stuck-up snobbery. Sirius was glad to have been part of it. He’d only lied about going to the wedding because Andromeda had made him promise, fearful about the trouble he’d land in if his parents found out. When he came down to it, though, Sirius didn’t even want to lie – let the old bastards hear everything. Sirius didn’t give a shit.

‘I went alone, and I’m not ashamed of it,’ said Sirius. ‘You should be ashamed of how you’ve treated Andromeda.’

He remembered standing and watching, shaking with silent fury as his mother blasted Andromeda’s name off the family tapestry, felt the sick surge of anger about it all over again. He’d never forgive her for it. _Never_.

‘How dare you,’ hissed Walburga angrily. ‘That foul little blood traitor, lowering herself, consorting with miserable, filthy little – ’

‘– shut up, shut up!’ said Sirius, but it was his own voice what was muffled. He hadn’t noticed his father taking out his wand. Sirius gagged, choking, as his throat constricted painfully. It would be better for him, he knew, not to fight it, to relax his muscles and concentrate on breathing through his nose until his father decided he’d had enough and lifted the spell.

Of course, _knowing_ and _doing_ are very different things, so Sirius struggled and cursed, using up what little breath he had trying to tell his parents exactly what he thought of them until he was gasping and retching. His lungs burnt and his eyes were streaming – the humiliation of it only fuelled his anger, until he was screaming silently and uselessly.

‘Orion, enough.’ 

Sirius heard his mother only distantly, but the spell was gone and he was sucking in deep breaths of air. He could feel the perspiration cooling on his forehead, and tremors shaking his limbs. He was light-headed, disoriented, and absolutely livid.

‘Calm yourself, Sirius.’ Walburga’s voice as gentle as it ever got, and she reached out to Sirius, fingers stroking back his hair as she wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. Her hand was cold, laden with jewellery, and her touch felt mechanical, more like some hollow mockery of maternal affection than anything real or loving. Sirius still leant into it, just for a moment, and despised himself for it at once.

‘Clearly that girl is more trouble than I realised,’ Walburga continued. She turned to address the rest of her comments to Orion. ‘We should have cut her out years ago, before she could entangle our son her in wickedness.’

‘Entangle, _what?_ ’ Sirius gasped, still not quite having his breath back. It made him cough. Merlin’s arse, his parents talked such bollocks sometimes.

Walburga started ranting again, something about “filth” and “treachery”, Sirius wasn’t really taking paying attention. She was going on like Andromeda had been caught having sex with a pig rather than marrying a decent bloke who clearly adored her. The bigotry wasn’t exactly anything new and Sirius tried, he really did, to just tune it out but he never was that good at rising above provocation.

‘Don’t talk about her like that!’ he said, throat still sore but not sore enough to stop him raising his voice. ‘And lay off Ted as well; you’ve never even met him.’

‘Hold your tongue, boy,’ demanded Orion, and Sirius let out a half-hysterical yelp of laughter. He supposed he was lucky to get a warning this time.

‘I thought you wanted me to tell the truth,’ he said. ‘Why else did you drug me?’

‘Because you can’t be trusted.’ Orion Black’s face was contorted into an ugly sneer and Sirius was struck but the sudden notion that maybe that was how _he_ looked when he was angry. He hoped not. ‘You’ve been a constant disappointment to your mother, bringing shame on the family name, no respect for – ’

‘– no respect for traditional wizarding values, yeah yeah, I know,’ parroted Sirius. ‘Don’t you ever get tired of yourself? I don’t care about the family name, I don’t care who’s a pure-blood and who isn’t, I don’t care about tradition and money and genealogy. I don’t care about any of it, none of it matters, it’s not important.’

Walburga looked ashen. Really, why was she so surprised? ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Veritaserum, remember?’ retorted Sirius. ‘Andromeda was the best of this family and you drove her away.’

It was the truth and it hurt too, rather more than Sirius had wanted to let on. Andromeda had always been kind to him, understanding and fun. He missed having someone on his side, especially now that Regulus was turning into a proper little pure-blood milksop snob.

‘Andromeda’s miles better than you and I hate what you did to her.’

Walburga glowered at him, appalled. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I know that you’re twisted,’ Sirius said. ‘I hate you. _I hate you._ ’

He might’ve said more too but his father’s Silencing Spell hit and he couldn’t say anything at all. Orion was looking at him with such loathing that Sirius wondered if the only reason he had been Silenced rather than choked this time was because his father feared he might actually kill him otherwise.

‘You will go to your room.’ Orion’s voice was ice-cold. ‘Kreacher will fetch you when your mother and I have decided on an appropriate punishment.’

Unable to answer, Sirius left without looking at either of his parents. He couldn’t resist the childish impulse to slam every door he went through, stamp up the stairs loudly enough to shake the mounted heads of departed house elves, and smash a particularly hideous vase as he went. Alone in his room Sirius lay on the bed, trembling with fury and trying to collect himself enough to shake off the Silencing Spell. He knew he wouldn’t be hearing from his parents for a while – making him sweat it out was a favourite tactic – but he didn’t want to wait.

 _Finite. Finite. Finite,_ he thought to himself. Non-verbals required perfect concentration, and his was shot to shit. The rest of the house had fallen quiet, and Sirius might even have slept fitfully, before he got his voice back.

He pulled his mirror from his pocket and muttered, ‘James Potter.’

It was time to go.

#

Much later, Sirius was sitting on the roof of the Potters’ house in Somerset, placating Agni, the family owl, by throwing owl treats as he struggled to finish his letter when James crawled out to join him.

‘Working on your memoirs?’

‘Only the dirty bits.’ Sirius grinned. ‘Nah, I just thought I’d let Andromeda know what I’m up to.’

‘Good.’ James nodded approvingly as he sat beside Sirius, flinching a little as Agni hooted her annoyance and flew over him. The cantankerous old tawny owl settled on Sirius’ shoulder and encouraged him to finish the letter by pecking his knuckles.

‘You could invite her over,’ James continued, as Sirius scribbled and tried not to drip blood on the parchment. ‘If you want another renegade Black to talk to. Or should I call you white sheep?’

‘And that’s why I came here,’ said Sirius. He rolled up his note to Andromeda and tied it to Agni’s leg. Mollified, she hooted softly and took off. ‘The hilarity.’

‘I’m a comedic genius and you know it,’ said James. ‘You can’t convince me you’ve only moved in because Mum’s soft enough to let you stuff your face with Jumping Jinx Jalebis before dinner.’

‘I’m a growing boy!’ said Sirius, landing a playful shove on James’ shoulder. ‘And your mum happens to think I’m charming. Just because _you_ grew up a spoilt only child who never learnt to share his sweets.’

James looked at Sirius then, solemn and intense, and Sirius could almost _feel_ what he was thinking. Some unspoken promise about family and brotherhood, and how Sirius was welcome to half or even all of James’ sweets as long as he wanted. Sirius felt the weight of it too, blooming hotly in his chest, and he couldn’t find the words either. After a lengthy silence James reached out and took hold of Sirius’ elbow.

‘You’re staying, right?’ he said. ‘For good.’

Not quite trusting himself to speak, Sirius just nodded, and James grinned like they’d pulled off the world’s greatest prank, made Snivellus cry, and won the House Cup all in a single afternoon. Gleefully, he manhandled Sirius back through the open window and inside the house, where Fleamont Potter was calling them both down to the dinner they’d already ruined themselves for with sweets.

It didn’t come easily to Sirius, relaxing into the Potters’ exuberant hospitality. Their home was a world away from Grimmauld Place, messy and welcoming rather than cold and buttoned-up. Even the way it smelled – like cardamom and sandalwood – was a thousand times more inviting. Sirius loved being there, but found it hard to believe he really belonged as much as all the Potters insisted he did.

‘Does it make me a bad person,’ he asked, whispering at midnight between sips of pilfered mead, ‘that I left because I hate them so much?’

It’d been weighing on his mind since Andromeda’s reply had arrived that morning, cheerfully welcoming him to the club. Except… Sirius didn’t really feel like he belonged in the same club after all. Andromeda hadn’t run away, she’d run _to_ something, someone. She didn’t hate anyone; she’d done it for love. Somehow that struck Sirius as a far nobler motivation. He wished he felt something like that.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said James, his voice slurring with alcohol and tiredness. ‘You are a thousand times better than any of that miserable lot. Arseholes didn’t deserve you.’

‘And you do?’ said Sirius, rescuing the mead bottle before it tumbled through James’ fingers. ‘Some people would say deserving me is a very bad thing.’

‘Yeah, well, fuck ‘em,’ said James. ‘You’re exactly what I deserve.’

Sirius wasn’t sure that was true, but he knew that James believed it, and maybe that was enough.

#

‘Moony! Wormtail! Thank Merlin!’ James grinned expansively at Remus and Peter and jumped up to give them both bone-crushing hugs. 

Sirius glanced up as his friends settled into the carriage. ‘Alright?’

‘See how I’ve been starved of reasonable company all summer?’ said James. ‘Moody git.’

‘You must be so disappointed,’ said Remus. ‘You’ve only been working on plans to kidnap Padfoot since second year.’

‘You should still keep those plans, Prongs,’ said Peter, tipping out a large bag of snacks. ‘Maybe you could use one on Evans.’

‘Doubtful,’ said Sirius, helping himself to a blood lollipop. ‘I know all of Prongs’s hiding places, and very few of his secret plans for me involve erotic massage oils. Or Amortentia.’

James threw a pumpkin pasty at his head and sat back down. ‘I’ve had to deal with this all summer, you know. Unadulterated Padfoot. Feel my pain.’

‘I felt enough pain from some of the owls you two sent,’ said Peter. ‘Did you have to make them all explode?’

Sirius and James both laughed.

‘Perhaps I should be grateful they didn’t send me any explosions,’ said Remus. ‘Just a series of increasingly violent children’s toys.’

‘We were finally clearing away Jamie’s nursery,’ said Sirius. ‘It was very emotional for him.’

‘Mum and Dad decided we needed the space for Padfoot’s ego,’ said James. ‘And his extensive collection of hair products.’

Remus just carried on like he hadn’t heard them. ‘The murderous spinning top was a particular delight,’ he said. ‘Look!’

He pushed back his fringe to reveal a nasty red mark along his hairline, the result of a run-in with an enthusiastically Charmed spinning top.

‘Hard luck, Moony. You want to work on your reflexes.’ James lounged back, munching a liquorice gizzard. ‘Still, if you’re feeling down, maybe Sirius’ll let you pet his pussy.’

Remus blinked slowly. ‘Do I even want to know?’

‘Yes!’ said Sirius with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. ‘You really do.’

‘You really don’t,’ countered James, but it was already too late.

Sirius reached inside his robes and pulled at a squishy, misshapen lump of fuzz. Any sensible person would have recognised it as some sort of animal, albeit an unattractive one that was likely best avoided. Sirius, though, took some pride in not being any sort of sensible person at all, so he tickled the top of the furball and cooed at it.

Remus looked appalled. ‘What in Godric’s gonads is that?’

‘ _She_ is called Callie,’ said Sirius, curling his fingers around the beast protectively. ‘She’s a kneazle kit.’

‘Are you _sure_?’ Remus appeared to doubt Callie’s provenance, most unreasonably in Sirius’ opinion. Just because she had a squashed face, a torn ear, her eyes were different sizes, and she sort of wheezed a bit after vigorous – or indeed any – exercise. Not every pet had to be conventionally attractive. Honestly, to think that people called Sirius shallow.

‘She’s a stray. Padfoot rescued her from our neighbour’s crup. My parents are completely taken in with how caring and responsible this supposedly makes him.’ James rolled his eyes. ‘Blasted thing’s already pissed on my pillow three times.’

‘Oh, don’t sulk, Prongs, you weren’t using it at the time,’ said Sirius, holding Callie up and tickling her under the chin. ‘I’ve not trained her that well yet.’

‘Ooh, does she do tricks?’ Peter, bless him, ever eager to please and smart enough to realise when James was full of it, managed a passable level of enthusiasm about Sirius’ new pet. 

‘Yes!’ Sirius nodded. ‘Here, Wormtail, hold your hand out… that’s it nice and still. Now, Callie, shake paw.’

Sirius beamed as the kneazle stretched out and batted Peter’s hand, although no-one apart from Peter seemed to think much of it. He thought a high-five might be more impressive, but they hadn’t really practiced that so when he tried to get Callie to give one to Remus she just hissed and delivered a nasty scratch to his palm.

‘Callisto!’ scolded Sirius. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’

‘Wait, Callie is short for Callisto?’ said Remus, looking up from his injured hand with an expression of disbelief. His opinion of the beast appeared to be dropping rapidly, and he hadn’t seemed to like her much in the first place. 

‘Second moon of Jupiter,’ said James.

‘Thanks, Prongs, I was in first year astronomy.’ Remus rolled his eyes, though whether he was more exasperated by James’ intervention or the possibility that Sirius had named his defective kneazle after a moon was anyone’s guess.

‘Should’ve been a star, really,’ muttered Sirius, not too loud. He suspected that any discussion of mythology or astronomical naming traditions would only bring him further mockery. Keen to change the subject, he took hold of Callie’s front paws and lifted them up, humming an old Alchemites number as he did so. A dancing kneazle was impressive in anyone’s book, right?

Except Callie clearly wasn’t in the mood and twisted away, tumbling backwards off Sirius’ lap and landing in an undignified mess of fur and limbs on the floor. Hissing, she jumped up, upsetting an open bottle of Cherry Pooka Pop as she went, and landed on Peter’s open bag of sweets. The fizzy red drink soaked James and Peter’s shoes, and several disturbed chocolate frogs hopped around the carriage. One of them – already half melted – landed on Sirius’ hair.

Remus raised an eyebrow. ‘Should’ve called her Calamity.’


	3. Truth Potion No. 2: September 1976

_Truth Potion No. 2: September 1976. Self-administered. Supplied by Professor Horace Slughorn._

Getting back to school made life so much easier, simpler. Friends, lessons, Quidditch, running about the Forest at full moon, sneaking out to Hogsmeade, baiting Slytherins; the familiar routine made Sirius feel steadier in himself, his nerves less jangled. James was making some feeble attempts to behave more respectably, though Sirius couldn’t really see that working out for him, and Regulus was more impossible than ever, but all in all Sirius felt that life was getting back to normal.

Professor Slughorn’s announcement that N.E.W.T. Potions class were expected to complete an extended project on Veritaserum landed an unexpected blow to his composure. Sirius was fine, he was over it; he just… didn’t like to be reminded of the day he left home, that was all.

‘Unethical administration,’ said James, sitting bolt upright as he jumped onto his high horse and rode to Sirius’ defence – in his own mind at least. ‘Veritaserum is clear and tasteless, so you can just slip it in someone’s drink without them knowing anything about it. That’s not on.’

‘Well, I had been thinking about the difficulties in brewing the potion, but Mr Potter raises an interesting point.’ Professor Slughorn chuckled and beamed at James with his usual indulgence. Sirius found his antics repulsive – counting James amongst his favourites was fair enough, but Slughorn did it for all the wrong reasons. James was brilliant for himself, not because of who his dad was.

‘The Ministry has strict regulations about the use of Veritaserum, and with good reason,’ continued Slughorn. ‘It is immensely powerful and potentially dangerous. We would all do well to consider the broader ramifications of its use as well as the technical aspects of brewery.’

‘Are we not to consider the difficulties of attending to the potion over a full _lunar cycle_?’ drawled a voice from across the dungeon. It was Snape, looking particularly foul and greasy. Sirius ground his teeth and looked the other way. ‘What a shame.’

‘Indeed, Severus, indeed,’ said Slughorn. ‘I might’ve known you’d favour close attention to technical precision, m’boy. But consider the dangers a person might face when forced to spill his secrets.’

Snape’s face contorted into an ugly sneer. ‘Perhaps the problem is that some people have such dangerous secrets in the first place.’

Sirius felt James’ fingers digging into his arm, silently warning him against reaching for his wand. Irritated, Sirius shook him off. He wasn’t about to _do_ anything. It was only when he noticed several students from adjoining tables staring at him that he realised he’d been growling a bit.

‘Quite so,’ agreed Rosier. Another obnoxious Slytherin, the class was full of them. Little wonder Sirius couldn’t be doing much with Potions class, for all the subject itself was undoubtedly useful: it was taught underground, by a cloying toady, in room full of arseholes. Oh, and the classroom smelt funny too, like wet compost and phosphorous.

Sirius yawned theatrically as Rosier continued, ‘I don't see there’s anything to worry about unless you’ve got something to hide.’

‘Having something to hide isn’t necessarily something to be ashamed of,’ said Dorcas Meadowes, a Ravenclaw beater with a wicked right hook. ‘You might have a secret that’s embarrassing, even if you haven’t actually done anything wrong,’ continued Meadowes, warming to her theme. ‘Like, ooh, to use a purely hypothetical example, you didn’t stop wetting the bed until you were 12.’ 

She beamed at Rosier, who scowled, while most of the class sniggered. She hadn’t actually accused Rosier of wetting the bed, so Slughorn was unlikely to take points, but he did throw her a warning look. Meadowes smiled sweetly and kept going.

‘Or what if you’ve just got a little crush on someone?’ she asked. ‘People shouldn’t be forced to tell the world about who they fancy.’

Evans, who was sitting beside Meadowes, nodded vigorously. ‘People should definitely be given every opportunity to keep their romantic desires to themselves.’

Sirius chuckled, nudging James with his shoulder. James just scowled and rearranged the parchments on the desk, no doubt covering up another of his pitifully love-struck doodles. There was no more time for discussion, as Slughorn announced they would be working in pairs which he would personally allocate – no buddying up with your friends. Sirius groaned; much like the assigned seating he occasionally had to endure, he strongly suspected that teacher-selected groups were a ruse to keep him and James apart. He’d have to ask Pete if there was any of that rot in Divination. Slughorn made them all fill out a short survey, which he claimed would form the basis of his selection. Sirius gave purposefully ridiculous answers and jotted a note at the bottom claiming to be allergic to Slytherins.

#

‘Look, I know you don’t like me very much,’ said Evans, when Potions rolled around the following week and she’d been made to swap places with James. ‘But I hope we can work together properly; this project counts towards our final mark.’

Yeah, yeah, Sirius knew. He had been (more or less) awake when Slughorn explained it.

‘I don’t dislike you,’ he said.

‘Really?’ Evans seemed a bit surprised. ‘Well, that’s good, I suppose.’

‘Trust me,’ said Sirius, smiling wickedly, ‘you’d know all about it if I really didn’t like you.’

Evans rose to the bait tolerably well, an expression of vague irritation crossing her face. ‘No doubt,’ she said. ‘Still, I don’t suppose it really matters. Do you have any ideas about what you want to do for this project? Professor Slughorn said we were the only ones who put that we were interested in the use of Veritaserum in Healing.’

Sirius shrugged. He was slightly interested in Healing, but he didn’t have the first idea what use truth potions would be for it. He waved a hand vaguely. ‘I like a challenge.’

‘Hm.’ Evans frowned. ‘You put a stupid answer on purpose, just to be difficult, didn’t you?’

There didn’t seem much point denying it, so Sirius didn’t bother. ‘Yeah, but you didn’t though, did you?’ 

‘No,’ agreed Evans. ‘I did have an idea, actually.’

Despite himself, Sirius was intrigued. One good thing about Evans, she was actually clever. Most people weren’t terribly bright, in Sirius’ experience, and he preferred the company of the few who actually were capable of holding a thought in their heads. Evans had come up with something that hadn’t even occurred to Sirius. He appreciated the novelty.

He nodded for her to continue.

‘OK, so you know how my parents are Muggles?’ said Evans. ‘I got the idea from my mum, actually. She’s a psychology teacher. Um, you know what psychology is, right?’

Sirius tutted. ‘Study of the psyche, or soul,’ he said. ‘Yes, we did have Greek lessons in the magical ivory tower.’

‘Hm, before deportment and after sneering at poor people, no doubt.’

‘Yeah, something like that,’ agreed Sirius. ‘So, psychology? That’s psychiatrists, right?’

Sirius didn’t think it was worth mentioning that he’d had to get Remus to confirm what a psychiatrist was back in fourth year, after one too many comments from students with Muggle relatives about how he needed the attention of one himself. He’d made a point of deliberately misunderstanding the word ever since.

‘Psychiatry’s a bit different – I’m sure Mum could bore you silly on the precise details but it doesn’t really matter, since wizards don’t do either,’ explained Evans. ‘I thought it would be interesting to look at how you can use magic to understand how people’s minds work.’ 

‘Because Veritaserum works on the mind?’ asked Sirius. ‘I mean, it must do, to make people tell the truth.’

‘Well, there is that,’ said Evans. ‘I was thinking more about how magic reveals something about you. Like getting Sorted – I knew a bit about the different houses before I arrived at Hogwarts but I really wasn’t sure where I’d end up. I don’t know that I’d have described myself as particularly brave before the Hat put me in Gryffindor.’

It was an interesting thought. Sirius hadn’t expected Gryffindor either, though that was more because he’d just taken it for granted he’d go into Slytherin like Blacks always did. Had that been the first sign that he didn’t really fit in with the rest of his family? In retrospect, maybe it was.

‘I hadn’t really thought about it like that,’ said Sirius. ‘I was just glad not to be stuck in a dungeon with the snakes.’

He half-expected some disapproving comment about petty House rivalries from Evans, but she actually agreed. ‘Yeah, don’t think I’d’ve got on too well in Slytherin either,’ she said. ‘It’s not just that, though. Magic can tell you a lot about a person. Like how a boggart shows your greatest fear, or seeing your heart’s desire in the Mirror of Erised. Even the shape of someone’s Patronus says something about them, although that’s a bit more open to interpretation.’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’ Sirius had wondered before what his Animagus form said about him. That he was loyal, playful, or aggressive? Of course, James always said it meant he need a clout about the head with a rolled up newspaper and shouldn’t be allowed out in public without a leash, but what did he know.

‘What’s that got to do with Veritaserum though? It only makes you say what you think is true, which you should already know anyway. Unless it’s to force someone to tell the truth about themselves.’

‘That’s the thing, people don’t always know their own truths,’ said Evans. ‘People lie to themselves, repress their feelings, or practice self-delusion.’

‘What, like you pretending you don’t fancy James?’ Sirius leant across the desk, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘I thought you were only lying to him, but maybe you’re actually kidding yourself.’

‘Do me a favour,’ said Evans, leaning back away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her hair back. ‘I’ve actually very optimistic about things working out for me and the squid.’

‘I hear the squid’s gay.’

‘Good. Wouldn’t stand much of a chance with her otherwise.’

Sirius laughed, and bent down to scoop Callie up off the floor. She’d been doing a little job for him. Callie purred loudly, like a malfunctioning Muggle motor engine when Sirius scratched her ears as he turned back to Evans.

‘In that case, good luck with your quest for wet lesbian tentacle sex,’ he said, loud enough that James and Meadowes, sitting on the next table, both heard and turned to stare. Sirius briefly regretted he didn’t have a camera to capture James’ expression for future amusement.

Evans went very red in the face, but she was trying to act casual. Before she got a chance to say anything, though, there was a loud noise from the other side of the dungeon. Someone’s stool toppled over, and there was a flurry of activity and shouting.

‘What the hell?’ roared Snape. Sirius chuckled – he’d found Callie’s present, then. ‘There is – that’s… cat _mess._ ’

Snape’s predicament didn’t seem to be attracting much sympathy. The unfortunate Hufflepuff who’d drawn the short straw and been partnered with him was backing away slowly, and even Snape’s Slytherin buddies were laughing at him. Snape whirled around, his expression furious.

‘Black!’ he snarled, advancing across the room. ‘Did you put that foul little runt of yours up to this?’

Sirius put his hands over Callie’s ears. ‘Don’t listen to the nasty man!’

‘Actually, Severus, would you mind?’ Evans spoke up, stopping Snape in his tracks. He looked at her with a comically pleading expression. ‘Perhaps clean your robes first? They’re a bit… whiffy.’

Snape’s sallow face flushed an unattractive puce, and he seemed unable to reach for his wand to perform a simple Vanishing spell. Sirius was enjoying the moment immensely when Professor Slughorn finally saw fit to intervene.

‘Quite so, Mr Snape, you are excused to, uh, run along and clean yourself up. Black, do try to have your kneazle relieve itself before lessons. We don’t want any more little accidents.’

‘That wasn’t very nice,’ said Evans as the class settled down.

‘Calling poor Callie a runt?’ said Sirius. ‘No, it certainly was not.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’ Evans affected a frown, but her eyes were sparkling. So she did have a sense of humour after all.

Callie stretched out and rubbed her face against Sirius’ cheek, drooling slightly as she did so.

‘Who’s a good girl?’ cooed Sirius. ‘Yes you are, yes you are.’

#

It wasn’t often Sirius had the dormitory to himself. James had Quidditch practice, and Remus was helping Peter with a Defence essay that was due in a couple of days. Sirius supposed he really ought to make a start on it himself. First things first, though; the Potions project.

Sirius took out a vial of Veritaserum and turned it over between his fingers. Really, it was little short of a miracle that Slughorn had allowed him to take it out of the classroom, and that was only been because Evans had vouched for him. Sirius thought it was rather… optimistic of her, though he’d been impressed with the creativity of the retribution she’d threatened if he did break any of the promises she’d made on his behalf.

The project itself was simple enough. They would each take a small quantity of Veritaserum, alone, and ask themselves a personal question. Hopefully the answer would offer some sort of profound self- insight. A revelation. Sirius wasn’t entirely sure, but he was curious.

‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ he muttered to himself, holding the clear liquid up to the light. 

‘Not you, sweetheart,’ he added, smiling over at Callie. She was curled up fast asleep on Remus’ bed, snoring wheezily. Sirius would have to remember to change the pillowcase before Remus got back – Moony was forever moaning about the fur making him sneeze. ‘OK, think. Questions.’

Trouble was, of all the questions he could ask himself, there were far too many Sirius didn’t much care to think on too closely. Anything to do with family was definitely out – they’d given Sirius enough grief already. And he wasn’t about to pay any mind to Evans’s none-too-subtle hints that he should examine his own tendency for troublemaking either.

Sirius huffed to himself, glancing across to where Callie was snoozing on Remus’ bed. He wished Remus were there – Remus always gave good advice and he didn’t take the piss the way James did, or worse, make Sirius feel all weird because he _wasn’t_ taking the piss. Remus’ lack of piss-taking just came more naturally. It was one of the things Sirius really liked about him.

Actually, there were an awful lot of things Sirius liked about Remus, and the list was growing rapidly. Some of them were perfectly sensible, ordinary things like the fact that Remus was kind, thoughtful, and funny. Some were a bit… less so.

Sirius liked the way Remus’ name went with his own. _Remus and Sirius._ He liked the sound, the rhythm of it and that it rhymed. He liked how he and Remus were both part-time canines. He liked that he was named for a star and Remus was Moony. Silly things, daft coincidences that didn’t really mean anything.

Sirius kind of wished they _did_. He wished he knew how someone who looked so very _ordinary_ had come to hold such a fascination for him. Well, scratch that, no. He already knew that. He wished he could trace patterns along Remus’ freckles, and maybe go hunting for a few more that lay hidden beneath his ink-stained jumpers and unfashionable trousers. He wished he knew the taste of Remus’ pale, golden-brown skin. He wished he was better at coming up with excuses to stare into those dark, kind eyes.

Aw, hells, he had his question, didn’t he? Sirius opened the vial, and stuck out his tongue to receive a few drops of Veritaserum, before turning to the mirror.

‘If you fancy him so bloody much,’ he demanded of his reflection, ‘why don’t you do something about it?’

The answer really shouldn’t have surprised him.

‘I think he’ll say no,’ said Sirius. ‘He’s never given any sign of fancying me. He’s never given any sign of fancying boys at all. It might make things awkward. And I don’t like being rejected.’

Shutting his mouth firmly, Sirius turned away from the mirror and went to pick Callie up off Remus’ bed. She squawked at the disturbance, but soon settled down, nuzzling into Sirius’ neck.

‘Some Gryffindor I make,’ Sirius muttered into the warm, messy fuzz of her fur. ‘Cowardice, that’s what it is. Can’t be having that. There’s only one thing for it, Calamity. Time to make a move on Moony.’

Callie purred loudly, which might have had more to do with the way Sirius was tickling her chin than his romantic intentions, but Sirius took it as a sign of approval anyway.

#

Remus seemed to be in a good mood. They’d had a nice evening camped out on the edge of the Forest, drinking Butterbeer and talking rubbish, stoking a small fire to chase away the autumn mist. Sirius had bet James that he could sneak back to Gryffindor tower with the Map quicker than James could manage with his cloak. Peter, obviously, had sided with James but Remus declared he had more faith in the Map than he did James’ ability to keep quiet, and had chosen to go with Sirius.

They took a tunnel that led from the back of the greenhouses to a cupboard in a third-floor Charms classroom, laughing and chatting as they went. The passageway wasn’t the quickest, but it was cleaner than some of the others, which might be for the best if the evening progressed as Sirius hoped. 

Of course, if he wanted to progress in any interesting way at all he was going to have to actually _do_ something about it.

Right, so, enough messing about. Time to get on with pulling Moony. Sirius reached out, casual like, and caught hold of Remus’ hand. Remus stopped laughing and turned to face Sirius, eyes darting between Sirius’ face and their entwined hands in an adorably confused manner.

‘Padfoot?’

‘Moony.’ Sirius took a step closer, favouring Remus with one of his particularly sexy smiles.

Remus bit his lip. OK, that was really hot, and Sirius didn’t think he was even trying. ‘Padfoot, what are you doing?’

Sirius thought about trying to explain himself, but it was a complicated business, fraught with messy things like feelings, and he wasn’t sure where to begin. Besides, Sirius was a Marauder, a man of action. Deeds not words, right? No point trying to explain himself, he’d best just try for a snog and hope Moony got the message.

Hesitating only slightly, he lifted the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Remus’ to touch his hair, gently pushing the soft curls off his face. Remus opened and closed his mouth silently as Sirius leant in and pressed his lips to the corner of Remus’ mouth, a barely-there kiss that was enough to make the breath catch in Sirius’ throat.

‘Padfoot.’ Remus pressed his palm against Sirius’ chest. ‘Sirius, are you coming on to me?’

‘Yeah.’ Sirius nodded happily, glad that Remus had figured it out. Good old Moony, he wasn’t daft. Any minute now he’d start kissing Sirius back and then things would really kick off.

Remus didn’t kiss him back though, he just laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, more an affectionate sort of chuckle. ‘How much have you had to drink?’

‘What?’ Sirius drew back, blinking. ‘Couple of Butterbeers, same as you.’

‘And the rest.’

He’d had, what three Butterbeers? Two and a half, really, as he’d sprayed half a bottle over James as a penalty for bleating on about Evans for too long. A slug of Mandrake Vodka, no more.

‘I’m not drunk,’ said Sirius. He wasn’t. And Remus knew he wasn’t. ‘Moony, I just want to –’ 

‘– less of that,’ said Remus kindly. ‘C’mon, let’s get you back to the dorm before you really embarrass yourself. Although, with any luck, you won’t remember any of this in the morning.’

Sirius stared back at him blankly, taken in by the warm, gentle expression in Remus’ eyes. And then it hit him: Remus was being _kind._ He didn’t actually think Sirius was too pissed to know what he was doing; he was just giving him an out. Letting Sirius down so gently he wasn’t even admitting to having rejected him at all.

How typical of Remus to be so, well, so nice about it. Thoughtful. Considerate. Of course Moony would tread softly, taking great care to avoid hurting Sirius’ feelings.

It was the most humiliating thing Sirius could imagine.

‘Right, well.’ Sirius spoke in clipped tones as he stood back. ‘I’ll be fucking off then.’

He turned on his heel and walked away briskly.

‘Padfoot!’ Remus called after him. ‘Sirius, I didn’t – ’

But whatever it was Remus did or didn’t mean, Sirius didn’t wait around to hear it.

#

For days after Sirius’ spectacularly botched pulling attempt, Remus remained unfailingly pleasant and kind, whilst simultaneously refusing to give any acknowledgement that he’d ever turned Sirius down at all. It was all faintly exasperating. Sirius toyed with the idea of getting Callie to vomit in his slippers, just to provoke a reaction, but eventually decided to be the better person and rise above it.

Fine, it was fine, really. Sirius could cope with rejection. He wasn’t a complete egomaniac, whatever James liked to claim (mostly as a joke, but still). He’d get over it.

It was almost a relief when Potions rolled around, because Remus wasn’t taking N.E.W.T. Potions and so Sirius would be spared his campaign of solicitous niceness for a couple of hours. Better yet, because they were all working on their projects, Slughorn had granted a temporary reprieve from the dungeons. The library still wasn’t on Sirius’ top five favourite places to be, but there were fewer Slytherins and it didn’t smell of anything more offensive than old paper and furniture polish. If Evans could let Sirius get away without any attempts to improve his character defects, he might have a passable enough afternoon.

They spent an hour going over theory, bits and bobs of notes, and an article in a Healing journal about using potions to correct spell damage which seemed vaguely relevant. Sirius was starting to wonder if Evans was getting cold feet about the whole personal revelations malarkey when she sat down her quill and fixed him with a fiercely expectant stare.

‘So. You manage the experiment?’

Sirius bristled, instinctively defensive, and folded his arms across his chest. ‘I did it.’

‘And,’ said Evans, ‘how did you get on?’

They’d agreed they didn’t have to share the details, something to do with ethics and confidentiality, so Evans reckoned. Sirius had thanked her for her discretion, insisting that no doubt her secrets would make an innocent lad such as himself blush.

This would make it all the more appalling if he did end up acting all embarrassed. 

‘The experiment part was fine,’ said Sirius. ‘It worked pretty much how you said it should. It was only when I got carried away and tried _acting_ on the results that I wound up making a twat out of myself.’

‘How terribly uncharacteristic,’ murmured Evans. ‘Learn anything?’

‘Yes,’ said Sirius sharply. ‘Not to throw myself at straight boys.’

He hadn’t actually planned on revealing so much but hey, speaking without thinking, how _terribly uncharacteristic_. Evans’ eyes went wide, her mouth forming a soft “O” of surprise.

Sirius smirked back. Evans was clearly curious, but she didn’t _ask_. Actually, it was her lack of nose sticking-in that redeemed her. Sirius was fairly sure she must have some idea about Remus’ secret (the furry little problem, not his aversion to Sirius’ tongue). Snivellus was bound to have shared his suspicions during their wholly inexplicable friendship. She’d never pried though, and any ideas she might’ve had on the subject she’d kept to herself. Of course, with Remus continuing to “disappear” every month for six years you’d think it was obvious. The fact that almost no-one guessed was proof, as if Sirius needed any, that most people weren’t terribly bright.

‘Don’t gawk like that, Evans,’ he said. ‘I’m not telling.’

‘No! I mean, obviously it’s none of my business,’ said Evans, squirming slightly. ‘Just… it’s not Potter, is it?’

‘Merlin, no.’ Sirius laughed. ‘Why, worried about the competition?’

‘Please.’ Evans rolled her eyes. ‘But you said yourself that constant rejection was the only thing keeping his ego under control. You start offering yourself on a plate and his head might explode.’

‘Can’t be having that,’ agreed Sirius amiably. ‘But enough of my dramas. How did your experiment go?’

‘Not quite so gossip-worthy, I’m afraid,’ said Evans.

‘Shame,’ said Sirius. ‘So if I want any of your dirt, I suppose I’ll have to sweet-talk the squid.’

‘The squid never tells,’ Evans informed him. ‘No, my question was fairly dull, I’m afraid. I just wanted to work out why flying makes me so anxious.’

No kidding, that really was dull. So Evans was a nervous flier? So what.

‘You’re scared of heights?’ he asked, as politely as he could manage.

Evans shook her head. ‘Don’t mind them, actually,’ she said. ‘Just as well, living in a tower and all. No, it’s the whole broomstick thing. Broomsticks aren’t supposed to fly.’

‘They’re actually made for flying.’

‘They’re made for sweeping floors!’ said Evans. ‘Not transportation. How does that work?’

‘Magic,’ said Sirius slowly. He was beginning to think that maybe Evans wasn’t so smart after all. ‘You’re a witch.’

‘Thank you, Professor Black, for that insight.’ Evans looked excessively pissed off, under the circumstances. Not exactly a first for her. ‘Sometimes it’s just not that easy – look, how old were you when you first flew a broom?’

‘About six, I think,’ said Sirius. ‘I’d had to make do with a toy one before then. My mother had some idea I’d smash the family heirlooms.’

‘I was eleven, and I had to do it in front of some arrogant little toads who laughed at anyone who couldn’t fly properly right away, like they were superior because they were better at something they’d already had _years_ of practice at.’

‘People falling off brooms is funny,’ offered Sirius weakly. He didn’t remember laughing at Evans, specifically, but it did seem like the sort of thing he and James might have done.

‘Well,’ said Evans primly, ‘I’m sure you’d think so.’

Sirius groaned. He could feel a lecture coming on. ‘Like you wouldn’t laugh if I told you about the time James tried to loop-the-loop around his parents’ oak tree and accidentally flew backwards into a bee’s nest?’

‘Well, maybe just a bit,’ said Evans, her lips twitching slightly. ‘But it’s not really the same thing. And don’t look at me like that, Black, you’re intelligent enough to work it out.’

Sirius was ready to open his mouth to protest that it was exactly the same thing but… yeah, OK, maybe she had a point. He’d never really thought about the fact that most of the people who couldn’t tell one end of a broomstick from another in first year were probably Muggle-born but… it wasn’t as if Sirius had laughed at them _because_ they were Muggle-born. He wasn’t like that. Honestly, if Evans wanted to know what stuck-up pure-bloods were like she should meet some of his family. Then she might stop looking at him like he’d personally written the Statute for Secrecy.

Ugh, and she could quit trying to make him feel guilty as well. He hadn’t asked to be born pure-blood.

‘I’m sorry for laughing at you five years ago,’ he said sullenly. It didn’t sound terribly sincere, although Sirius did at least sort of mean it. ‘Why flying particularly, though? You can’t have learnt any other magic at home but you’re still good at it.’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Evans. ‘I mean, I _can_ fly, and I can see that it should be fun, I just can’t relax enough to actually enjoy it. It’s not even really having gits like you and Potter laughing when I couldn’t – although don’t think that lets you off the hook because it was still shitty. It’s just harder to forget everything I learnt about gravity and science at primary school when I’m whizzing through the air on a cleaning utensil.’

‘Well, when you put it like that,’ Sirius conceded. He frowned, considering the matter. ‘Muggles can fly though. They have aeroplanes. Are you nervous of them too?’

‘Not really. I’ve only been in a plane once – well, twice. To Spain and back. Flying’s really expensive,’ said Evans. ‘It was fun.’

‘I’m surprised you weren’t more worried about that,’ said Sirius. ‘Aren’t they made out of metal? That’s much heavier than wood. And I don’t see how Muggles get them up there without magic.’

‘Science,’ said Evans. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’

She picked up a piece of parchment and folded it over, before launching into a brief lecture about the basics of flight for Muggles. It was actually pretty interesting – Sirius liked the idea of Muggle engines quite a lot, though he’d yet to figure out how they actually worked. Plus, he got to snigger every time Evans mentioned “thrust”, even if it was mostly just to annoy her.

‘There’s a lot more to it that I don’t know, of course,’ she concluded. ‘When it comes down to it, though, I believe that aeroplanes are meant to fly, but broomsticks aren’t.’

‘Yeah, OK,’ said Sirius. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I didn’t say I was going to do anything about it,’ said Evans. ‘I was just working it out.’

‘That seems a bit pointless,’ said Sirius. ‘Why bother learning something if you’re not going to act on what you’ve found out?’

‘I don’t know, the joy of discovery?’ said Evans. ‘Anyway, it wouldn’t have anything to do with Veritaserum so it’s beyond the scope of our project. Unless you want to include a chapter on your tragic love life?’

The reminder brought Sirius’ mood crashing back down again. He shifted, turning to look outside the window, muttering, ‘be a fucking short chapter.’

‘Never mind,’ said Evans. Her voice sounded much gentler than usual – gentler than the tone she generally used on Sirius at any rate – and she actually reached across the library table to pat the back of his hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll, um… find a nice boy soon enough.’

Sirius turned back to regard her with an expression of deep distrust. She paled and pulled her hand back.

‘Evans, please,’ he said, appalled. ‘Don’t ever try to be nice to me again.’

#

Some weeks later Sirius was holed up in the broom sheds, diligently ignoring the chatter of assorted Hufflepuffs who appeared to be working on some sort of collective handle-polishing party, the sharp scent of linseed oil contrasting with the woodsy, grass-and-old-leather aroma of the broom shed. Sirius concentrated on the task in front of him, only stopping to briefly tease Callie with a stray twig. He’d been working for a couple of hours when Evans showed up.

‘Hi, so is there a reason you needed to see me so urgently?’ she asked. ‘Lupin assures me it’s not some scheme you and Potter have cooked up, but I’m not sure I believe him.’

Sirius looked up from the workbench and tutted at her. ‘I can’t imagine why you’d suspect any of us.’

‘Indeed. You’re quite the picture of innocence, Black.’

Sirius stiffened involuntarily. ‘You don’t have to call me that.’

‘What, your name?’ Evans folded her arms, leaning back against the opposite workbench. ‘Would you prefer a more elevated title, like Highness, or your Grace?’

‘Well, most people call me Sirius,’ he said. ‘Or Padfoot. Or, I don’t know, “oi, arseface” if you don’t want to sound too familiar.’

Evans gave him a long, appraising look. ‘Sure. The whole surnames thing is a bit public school anyway,’ she said. ‘So, arseface, what did you want me for?’

‘Ungrateful wench,’ said Sirius. ‘I’ve actually got you a present.’

He lifted a shabby-looking broomstick and presented it to her.

‘Er, thanks,’ said Evans uncertainly. ‘Why are you giving me a broom?’

‘Don’t need it,’ Sirius informed her brightly. ‘It was my broom, but the Potters are getting me a new one for my birthday. It’s supposed to be a surprise but they asked James to choose and, well, you know how excitable he gets.’

Sirius stopped to waggle his eyebrows at Evans. She pretended to look annoyed but didn’t answer, so he carried on, ‘Anyway, this was a Nimbus 1000 but it doesn’t work anymore.’

‘OK, I thought it was odd that you wanted to give me a broom, but it’s even stranger that you’re giving me a broken broom.’

‘It’s not just broken, it’s decommissioned,’ said Sirius. He snapped a few more twigs off the sweep anyway. ‘I’ve taken off all the Charms – for hovering, breaking, disillusionment, the lot. There’s no magic left in that thing, it’s just wood and sticks. Broken sticks. It could barely sweep a floor.’

‘And what do you want me to do with it?’ asked Evans, looking like she might have a couple of interesting ideas about that herself.

‘You’re going to fix it,’ Sirius told her. ‘Oh, you’ll need this.’

He dug a copy of _Flights of Fancy: The Beginner’s Guide to Building Your Own Broom_ which he’d very thoughtfully stolen from the library specially, out of his pocket and handed it over. Evans picked it up and leafed through the pages, a look of dawning comprehension growing on her face.

‘You want me to build my own broomstick?’ she asked. ‘You think I can?’

‘Definitely. You’re almost as good at Charms as I am.’

‘I’m better,’ said Evans, not looking up from the book. ‘This looks really hard, though.’

Sirius shrugged. All the best stuff – becoming an Animagus, mapping the school, enchanting a two-way mirror – _was_ hard. He might have pointed out that was part of the fun, if it wouldn’t have made him sound insufferably swotty.

‘It’ll be worth it in the end,’ he said. ‘When you’re done you’ll be able to enjoy flying properly without worrying about how it works. You’ll know it works because you did it yourself.’

Evans gave him another of those long, thoughtful looks that made him wonder if she wasn’t reading too much into things. It was only a broom.

‘That makes sense,’ she agreed, turning back to the book. ‘Although it does say here that newly Charmed brooms should be tested by experienced fliers because they can be unpredictable.’

‘So you’ll need someone who’s brilliant at flying, not afraid of making a twat of themselves in public, and would do anything for you,’ said Sirius. ‘Remind you of anyone?’

‘Merlin’s pants, this really is an elaborate ruse to make me pay attention to Potter, isn’t it?’

‘Nah, he doesn’t know anything about it,’ said Sirius. ‘But, you know, worst case scenario, even if you do fuck it up and it plunges him into the lake, we both get a good laugh at that and James gets the chance he’s been waiting for to fight the squid. Everyone’s a winner.’

Evans laughed and closed the book. ‘I suppose so.’

‘You know it makes sense,’ Sirius told her. ‘I am a genius, after all.’

Evans huffed a little but she was still smiling. ‘Well, I never claimed to be, so I think I’ll be reading this carefully before I do anything else.’

She tucked the book under her arm and picked up the broom with her other hand before heading to the door, using her elbow to open it. ‘Oh, and thank you, Sirius.’

‘Anytime.’ Sirius winked and waved at her as she left.

Once she’d gone Sirius got his wand out to clear away the mess of stray twigs around his workbench, and scooped a tin of broom polish out from under Callie’s nose before she could eat it.

‘That was very nice of you.’

Sirius looked up, surprised. He’d half-forgotten there was even anyone else around. Bramwell Baxendale, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, was leaning up against one of the broom cupboards. All the other busy little badgers had scurried off long since.

‘I’m a very nice boy.’

‘That’s not what I’ve heard,’ said Baxendale, pushing off the cupboard and strolling towards Sirius. He didn’t stop until he was slightly too close for casual conversation. ‘I’ve heard you’re very bad.’

‘Scurrilous rumours,’ said Sirius, raising an eyebrow. 

Baxendale grinned. ‘Any truth in them?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ said Sirius.

‘I’d like to find out,’ said Baxendale, still smiling as he pulled back slightly. ‘It’s a Hogsmeade weekend next Saturday. Come with me.’

‘And why would I want to do that?’ asked Sirius, with an impish grin. He hadn’t missed Baxendale reaching behind his back to cast a locking spell on the shed door.

‘Oh, I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive.’ Baxendale murmured the words as he leant ever closer to Sirius, his breath warm on Sirius’ neck.

Blimey, this guy didn’t waste any time. Not that Sirius was complaining; Bramwell Baxendale was a good-looking bloke, and Sirius had enjoyed admiring his broad shoulders and lovely, firm backside during Quidditch matches, even if he _was_ up against Prongs as Chaser. He was plenty easy on the eye up close as well, with thick chestnut brown hair, deep blue eyes, and ripe pink lips.

‘Yeah?’ Sirius dropped his wand, letting roll across the workbench. He didn’t think he was going to need it for a little while.

Baxendale didn’t answer, just curled his fingers around the back of Sirius’ neck, pushed him a step back until Sirius was pressed up against the back wall of the broom shed, and kissed him. It was a deep, frenzied kiss, which quickly progressed into a brief ecstasy of thrusting and fumbling, rutting up against the wall until they both came, hard and fast and fully dressed.

Sirius was breathing heavily, not so steady on his feet as Baxendale stayed close, nuzzling into him. Well, Bramwell, Sirius supposed. Bit much to think of someone by their surname once you’ve had sex, however briefly.

‘So,’ mumbled Bramwell between lazy kisses. ‘Hogsmeade?’

Sirius was a bit surprised. ‘You really want to go out with me?’

‘Yeah, course.’ Bramwell smiled again, and it was softer this time, warm and inviting. ‘I wasn’t _just_ trying to get into your trousers.’

‘Technically, you didn’t actually get into my trousers this time.’

‘True,’ agreed Bramwell. ‘Gonna give me a chance to try it?’

Sirius looked at him. Bramwell was definitely attractive, and it was kind of nice the way he was still petting Sirius. Plus, it wasn’t like Sirius was getting any better offers. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Why not?’

#

One date at Hogsmeade led to another, secret meetings in quiet corridors, and detention when Callie’s note-carrying capabilities failed them. It was fun, and Bramwell was good for a laugh in addition to being dedicated to getting off with Sirius everywhere from the Quidditch Pitch to Madam Puddifoot’s.

‘Finally decided to treat me properly, have you?’ said Sirius as he slouched against the window of the teashop. ‘About time too – I was beginning to worry that you might think I’m easy.’

‘You, easy? Never.’ Bramwell grinned. ‘Am I going to have to woo you with tea and cakes?’

‘Definitely,’ agreed Sirius. ‘I don’t put out for anything less than the finest patisserie.’

‘Might be looking more like the driest Bakewell slice,’ said Bramwell. ‘Still, it’s your choice; tea and crumpets, or we sneak around the back and I’ll blow you in the toilets.’

Sirius did his best to look like he was considering the matter carefully. ‘Well, they do say too much sugar is bad for you.’

‘And you’re sweet enough already,’ said Bramwell, grabbing hold of Sirius’ wrist and pulling him towards the door.

#

‘Five excellent gifts, two poems, one potentially dangerous jinx, four pieces of mediocre pornography, several offerings of food safely destroyed, a truly astonishing quantity of glitter, and one item Of Which We Shall Not Speak.’ James looked up from the mess of parchment and torn wrappings spilling over breakfast on the Gryffindor table. ‘Not a bad haul, Padfoot.’

Sirius beamed back at him. His seventeenth birthday had, so far, been mostly brilliant. He’d been given a Comet Jubilee by the Potters, a bottle of Diablesse’s Downfall Rum from his fellow Marauders, courtesy of Remus’ Great Uncle Vincent in Barbados, tickets for Hecate and the Hinkypunks from Ted and Andromeda, and the Ladybird Guide to Flight (recommended age 7) from Lily. Even Regulus had given him a new penknife for his collection.

Getting something from Regulus had been a pleasant surprise. The fact that his parents had also sent him a present – the first contact he’d had from them since leaving home – had been a less pleasant one. They’d given him a broom, the same model the Potters had given him (well, it was very expensive) but without any of the modifications James had ordered. Sirius was trying not to think about it.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I should become an adult more often.’

Remus snorted into his pumpkin juice, so he only had himself to blame when Sirius used a _very mild_ Warming Charm to turn the milk on his cornflakes sour. Sirius was so busy dodging the boiled egg Remus tried to smush into his hair as retaliation that he nearly didn’t notice the pie dish materialising on the table in front of him.

‘Another one, when will they learn?’ James tutted. Ever since an incident in third year involving praline chocolates and Amortentia, Sirius refused to touch food unless he knew where it came from. He’d tried telling everyone that Peter was his personal taster, but Remus said that was mean so generally he just relied on James to get rid.

James had his wand out and a Vanishing spell on his lips when Sirius interrupted him. 

‘Nah, you’re alright. I’ll keep this one,’ he said, pulling the dish towards him.

‘What is that?’ asked Peter, peering across the table. ‘It looks like… coconut on custard.’

‘Manchester tart.’ Sirius ran his finger through the custard and sucked on it lewdly, leaning to grin across at the Hufflepuff table.

‘That’s no way to talk about your boyfriend,’ muttered James. ‘Oh, Merlin’s crack, Padfoot, give it a rest. Some of us have not had our coffee yet.’

#

‘So, enjoying your birthday so far?’ asked Bramwell.

‘Mm, think it’s about to get better,’ said Sirius, making himself comfortable on Bramwell’s bed. Ever so nice Hufflepuffs, sodding off to give their dorm-mates a little privacy. Sirius knew his friends would never go for it.

‘That’s the plan,’ said Bramwell, leaning in to Sirius and kissing him softly. It was really lovely, just kissing and touching slowly, and Bramwell was an _excellent_ kisser. Still, Sirius found it difficult to relax and enjoy himself.

‘So, you want to tell me what’s bothering you?’ asked Bramwell after a while.

‘Huh? Sorry.’

Sirius blinked up, surprised, as Bramwell pulled back. He was still watching Sirius, frowning slightly, with an openness that made it hard for Sirius to return his gaze.

‘Family stuff?’ asked Bramwell. ‘I heard you were arguing with your brother.’

Sirius shrugged. Yeah, Regulus was being snot, what else was new? Sirius had been _trying_ to be nice, offering him the broom his parents had sent, there’d been no need for Reg to go off on one.

‘He’s a cock,’ said Sirius vaguely. Family was never an easy topic, and the fact that he was both confused and furious about his parents sending him an expensive gift was a particularly tough one. Sirius might not have been blessed with an excess of humility, but he knew fine well that “I’ve got too many fancy brooms” made him sound like a spoilt brat.

And that had been before Regulus had confirmed it wasn’t just a gift, it was a _message_. His last chance.

‘Look, I know we’ve not been going out very long so I’ll understand if you’d rather not pour your heart out to me,’ said Bramwell. ‘If you do want to talk about it, though, I’m happy to listen.’

Sirius didn’t much want to talk about anything; he wanted to forget all about his blasted family and their remorseless drama. He’d been relying on Bramwell to stick his hand down his trousers the moment they were alone together so that Sirius didn’t have to think about anything at all.

‘You didn’t invite me down here to talk about my feelings,’ said Sirius. He rolled onto his back and stretched, winking broadly. ‘I know you’re only after me for my body.’

‘Well, I can’t deny it _is_ a major attraction.’ Bramwell laughed, and then leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to Sirius’ forehead. ‘But I do actually like you as well.’

‘Really?’ Sirius didn’t know why he was so surprised; Bramwell was always nice to him, and despite being pretty much constantly up for it he wasn’t a user. It was what he wanted after all – to find someone who liked _and_ fancied him, because while Sirius was plenty used to being an object of desire, it usually came from people who didn’t really know or care about him.

It didn’t make sense that getting a chance at the relationship he wanted should cause Sirius to feel so suddenly, unaccountably panicked. There seemed every chance he’d mess it up. He probably didn’t deserve it.

‘Yes, really.’ Bramwell rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond. ‘So, what do you want to do?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ admitted Sirius. ‘But, uh… you could take my mind of it.’

‘A distraction, hm. I can do that.’ Bramwell moved so he was lying beside, almost on top of Sirius, their bodies pressed close together, and moved his hand in teasing movements across his hip. ‘What’s it to be? I could start a fire, play a round of Gobstones, test you on Arithmancy…’

Sirius grabbed his arm and turned, flipping Bramwell so their positions were reversed with Bramwell flat on his back and Sirius leaning over him.

‘You could come in my mouth.’

‘I – _fuck_ ,’ Bramwell gasped as Sirius made short work of his fly.

This, _this_ was something Sirius understood and could do well, abandoning thought for the delights of honest physicality. For a short while the world held nothing but the scent, the touch, the taste of Bramwell and the ragged sound of his breathing as Sirius moved over him. Eagerly Sirius lost himself to the velvet heat of Bramwell’s cock swelling to fill his mouth, the sharp tug of fingers twisting in his hair and a joyous, frantic bout of thrusting and fumbling.

Eventually Sirius lay with his head tucked into the curve of Bramwell’s neck, sweat cooling on his skin and a blissful, liquid languor settling into his limbs. He sighed happily, stifling a yawn as Bramwell traced lazy circles across his back.

‘None of that, sleeping beauty,’ said Bramwell. ‘Much as I’d like to keep you here to myself, I’m under strict instructions from Potter to send you back to Gryffindor Tower by nine. I expect he wants to make sure you get an early night.’

‘Ugh, he’s not my keeper.’ Sirius grumbled, but he was already sitting up and glancing around for his t-shirt.

‘More like your pimp,’ suggested Bramwell. ‘I did ask if he usually rented you out by the hour.’

Sirius laughed. ‘Bet he loved that.’

‘He handled it tolerably well,’ said Bramwell. ‘I had to start asking about how much extra it was for kinky stuff to get him properly flustered.’

‘You are brilliant.’ Sirius pulled his t-shirt over his head and grabbed Bramwell for a quick, deep kiss. ‘Thanks. You know. For tonight.’

‘What for?’ Bramwell stood up, still only half-dressed, and placed his hands on Sirius’ waist as he kissed him goodbye. ‘Getting to enjoy a quickie with my gorgeous, sexy boyfriend? Not exactly a sacrifice.’

‘Well, when you put it like that.’ Sirius grinned, and pulled himself reluctantly out of Bramwell’s embrace. ‘You’re welcome.’

He tugged on his boots and scarf in a hurry before heading to the door. ‘I’ll see you again soon, yeah? I’ll send Callie with a note.’

‘Sure,’ agreed Bramwell. He leant out of the door to call as Sirius hurried away. ‘But tell her I don’t need any more dead beetles!’

#

Sirius was a little out of breath by the time he made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room, but feeling happier and more relaxed. Spending time with Bramwell was an excellent distraction from worry about his family and his birthday and what he was going to do about… damn. All the things he’d suddenly remembered again.

All at once the anxiety and confusion came flooding back, so it really wasn’t Sirius’ fault at all that he didn’t quite look where he was going and tripped headfirst over Remus’ foot.

‘Sorry,’ said Remus, although he didn’t look it. He was tucking the Map back into his pocket. ‘Prongs says I’ve to keep you here another ten minutes. Your final birthday surprise needs a few last-minute tweaks.’

‘Brilliant.’ Sirius flopped down on one of the couches in a corner of the Common Room. It was getting late on a weeknight, so there weren’t many other students about. ‘So, you going to tell me what it is? We are going out, right?’

‘If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise,’ Remus mock-lectured as he joined Sirius on the sofa. ‘And, naturally, as a prefect I couldn’t possibly condone sneaking out of the castle on a school night.’

‘Naturally,’ agreed Sirius. ‘So are you not coming with?’

‘The only way anyone’s going to catch me wandering about after hours with you reprobates is if I become deeply concerned about your safety and have no choice but to go looking for you.’

‘Yeah, best not get caught, Moony, because McGonagall’s not going to fall for that one again.’

Remus scoffed. ‘She never falls for your claim that a dog ate your homework but it doesn’t stop you trying every other week.’

‘Persistence is part of my charm,’ said Sirius. ‘You know Minnie loves me really.’

‘Of course she does.’ Remus looked like he was going to say more, but stopped himself. Instead he asked, ‘So, have you decided what you’re going to do about the whole brooms fiasco?’

Sirius pushed himself back into the cushions and shook his head. ‘No idea. I know it’s stupid. I don’t mean to be such a… poor little rich boy.’

‘Well, I’m glad to see you’re learning some self-awareness in your old age,’ said Remus, favouring him with a small, teasing smile. ‘But I know it’s not really about money. Or even brooms.’

Sirius shifted, digging around in his pockets to pull out a couple of cards which he passed to Remus. ‘I got these too. They’re… well, see for yourself.’

The card his parents had attached to their gift was little more than a gift tag, perfunctory and formal, offering no more than their regards. Mr and Mrs Potter’s card showed a photograph of Sirius and James playing in the their garden at the end of First Year, and was filled with a long, meandering note full of birthday wishes, promises to take Sirius and his friends out to tea, and with a recipe for a potion for Callie’s rheumy eye Spellotaped to the back. It was signed “lots of love”, with a mess of hugs and kisses filling a corner of the page.

It seemed like an awfully long time before Remus spoke. ‘They really do love you,’ he said quietly.

There was no need to clarify who “they” were. The Potters loved him; his parents, Sirius suspected, did not.

‘I know.’ Sirius stared down at his hands. ‘And I’m grateful, I really am. I don’t know what I’d have done without them. It’s just… compare and contrast, you know?’

It would have been so much easier if his parents had done the decent thing and ignored his birthday. Or sent him some nasty Howlers, which Sirius could at least have enjoyed getting properly angry about. The fact that the Potters’ and the Blacks’ choice of gifts were so similar only made the differences more apparent. Mr and Mrs Potter lavished their time and money on Sirius in an attempt to make him happy. His parents had dispatched a status symbol because that’s what he was to them. A valued heir rather than a beloved son. 

‘You know it’s them and not you, right?’ Remus’ voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘It’s not just the Potters who love you, all of us, your friends, we think you’re brilliant. Andromeda adores you. That Baxendale, he’s mad about you, you should’ve heard him winding Prongs up earlier, it was hilarious. Even McGonagall thinks you’re charming.’

‘I _am_ charming!’ Sirius grinned.

‘Twat,’ countered Remus, affectionately. ‘Anyway, I had an idea of how you could get rid of a spare broom. If you’re interested.’

Sirius nodded vigorously. ‘Definitely.’

‘Right, well, some of the Quidditch teams have these outreach programs. Beginners’ classes for children who are too young for school, holiday schemes for disadvantaged kids, that sort of thing. My parents tried to make me go once,’ Remus explained. Sirius nodded along – he didn’t have any first-hand experience but James had talked about volunteering with Puddlemere United after school. ‘Anyway, apparently they all rely on donations. If you wanted to let one of them have your parents’ broom… well, you could probably talk to Madam Hooch. I’m sure she’d help you sort it out.’

‘That’s inspired,’ said Sirius, brightening immediately. Not only would he get rid of the stupid thing, it would actually do some good. Good old Moony, he was great with advice and seemed to have a special gift for making Sirius feeling better. ‘I’ll talk to her first thing in the morning.’

‘Maybe about mid-afternoon,’ said Remus, standing back up. ‘You might need a while to recover from Prongs’s surprise.’

Sirius jumped up, grinning. ‘Can’t wait.’

#

Several weeks later, Sirius spent the weekend in the tiny wizarding district of Sackville, in a poky little flat overlooking the Rochdale Canal. Bramwell lived with his sister, Magda, but she was away working so they wouldn’t be disturbed. The flat was unfashionable and even with the windows shut tight against the winter chill it stank of the canal and the neighbours’ experimental Herbology, but it didn’t matter. They went out dancing in a club underground, where the music was terrible and too loud and the beer was flat, but Sirius got to dance with Bramwell the whole night, and they could kiss and laugh and hold hands, and Sirius didn’t think he’d ever felt more free.

It was late enough to qualify as early morning when they made it back, buzzy and hopped up on cheap beer and raw emotions. It had taken such an effort to keep their hands off one another during the short walk back to the flat so as not to scandalise the neighbours, Bramwell had barely finished opening the door for them when Sirius shoved him up against the coat rack and kissed him thoroughly.

‘Should probably… shut the front door,’ muttered Bramwell, casting a spell over Sirius’ shoulder as they staggered down the hallway, tearing at each other’s clothes as they went. ‘Don’t want an audience now I’ve finally got you to myself at last.’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius agreed breathlessly. It was an extraordinary luxury, getting a flat to themselves for so long. Sirius thrilled to think he was actually getting to spend the whole night with Bramwell – despite Bramwell’s considerate dorm mates and Sirius’ innate sneakiness, they’d never managed more than the occasional hour alone together before.

‘Sirius,’ Bramwell murmured his voice low and thick against Sirius’ neck. ‘Merlin, _fuck_ , I want you so much.’

‘Yeah?’ Sirius beamed, drinking in the sweet thrill of Bramwell’s desire as he fell onto on the bed and pulled Bramwell on top of him. ‘Well, you got me.’

‘Lucky me.’ Bramwell stopped kissing to look down at Sirius with a sort of warm affection that made Sirius’ stomach twist. ‘I’d really like to fuck you. I mean… if you want to.’

Sirius sucked in a deep breath of air. Yeah, he’d been kind of expecting this. Hoping.

‘I’ve never… you know,’ Sirius said, forcing down his own embarrassment. Bramwell already knew that Sirius’ prior sexual experience was limited to a few furtive and forgettable hand-jobs, and he’d never minded. ‘But I’d like to. With you.’

Bramwell’s smile was sweet and golden. ‘Wonderful.’

He was unfailingly considerate, soothing Sirius’ nerves with gentle kisses and whispered reassurances as he arranged their limbs and slipped oiled fingers inside of him.

‘Promise to tell me if it hurts,’ he said as Sirius knelt before him, arms trembling as he gripped the headboard.

‘Yes, yes,’ muttered Sirius, without the least intention of doing any such thing. ‘Just _do_ it.’

It did hurt but not too much, and it was hot, overwhelming, and invasive. Bramwell’s tender words became increasingly incoherent and his movements rougher and jerkier, like he was losing himself. Sirius grunted and moaned, urging Bramwell on, always wanting more, wanting everything. It felt like a victory when Bramwell gasped and came inside him, and a little soreness was a small price to pay for a moment of fierce intimacy.

Afterwards, Bramwell kept kissing and touching him, cradling Sirius in his arms.

‘OK?’ he asked tenderly, pushing Sirius’ hair back off his face, messy and full of blissed-out tenderness.

‘Yeah,’ said Sirius, gazing up fondly. ‘I love you.’

Bramwell’s expression wavered, showing a flicker of surprise, perhaps even concern. It wasn’t the joyful reciprocation Sirius had hoped for and he felt a bit silly, more raw and vulnerable than he had when Bramwell was inside him. Bramwell recovered quickly, kissing Sirius again. ‘You’re so sweet.’

‘I am not sweet,’ protested Sirius indignantly as he aimed a playful slap at Bramwell’s shoulder.

‘You are sweet,’ said Bramwell between kisses. ‘And sexy, and gorgeous. Fucking amazing in bed. And perfect.’

‘Well, if you insist,’ agreed Sirius, relaxing into Bramwell’s embrace as the warm lull of post-sex slumber beckoned. He stretched and yawned, trying to focus on the tender glow of Bramwell’s compliments and not the gnawing uncertainty that he somehow wasn’t quite getting it right.

#

‘Have you actually done any work at all?’ asked Lily. She’d been insisting that they needed to discuss their project for weeks, and Sirius had finally run out of excuses.

‘Of course!’ said Sirius.

‘Well?’ Lily fixed him with one of her beadiest stares. Sirius wondered if McGonagall gave lessons during prefect meetings. ‘What have you done?’

Since he hadn’t, in fact, done any work at all, Sirius elected not to answer in favour of mumbling into Callie’s fur. Callie meeped and thrashed her tail, upsetting a pot of ink. Sadly it only spilt onto the table and Lily was able to Vanish it easily enough, so it didn’t make for much of a distraction.

‘Have you at least written up something about the experiment?’ asked Lily. ‘No? Well, maybe we could brainstorm it a bit, come up with something together… ’

‘Can we not?’ Sirius scowled and kicked the table, upsetting the ink pot again. Lily Vanished the spilt ink once more, and it seemed like a large chunk of her patience had disappeared with it. The glare intensified. ‘Maybe we should rethink.’

‘What, start again? No way – I’ve actually done a lot of work on my part of the experiment.’ Lily was looking crosser by the moment. Sirius suppressed a devilish urge to ask if she was planning to put him in detention. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be happier about all this? Last term you were moping about your tragic love life, but now you and Baxendale are all loved-up I’d have thought…’

Sirius’ scowl deepened, enough that Lily trailed off. Apparently she could take a hint after all. Lily sighed deeply, looking thoroughly exasperated.

‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘That whole “making a fool of myself over straight boys” palaver last term was because you were chasing after some _other_ boy and now you’re worried your boyfriend won’t like it.’

‘Yeah, we don’t actually spend a lot of time discussing homework,’ said Sirius. ‘It’s more the principle of the thing.’

He’d never mentioned the crush he’d had on Moony to Bramwell – or to anyone else for that matter – but why would he? That had been before. He wasn’t about to ask Bramwell for a list of every bloke that had ever turned him down.

Lily was still giving him one of those “keep talking, make it good” looks, so Sirius continued. ‘It’s about loyalty, you know?’

‘I suppose I can see your point,’ said Lily, still sounding deeply unimpressed. ‘Honestly, though, if you’d chosen a sensible question in the first place instead of chasing after boys we wouldn’t have this problem.’

‘You’re too young to be so cynical,’ said Sirius, feeling much more relaxed now it seemed Lily wasn’t going to make him examine his history of embarrassing crushes. ‘Have you no romance in your soul?’

‘Romance, my arse,’ scoffed Lily. ‘Honestly, if a girl mucked up her N.E.W.T project over boy-drama everyone would laugh at her for being a proper drippy fuckwit.’

‘You’re laughing at me _right now_.’

‘Yeah, but that’s different.’ Lily grinned. ‘You deserve it.’

Sirius pretended to be horribly offended, mostly to avoid admitting how glad he was to have been let off the hook. They’d think of another angle for the potions project, and Sirius would be spared having to analyse his feelings and all that malarkey.

#

The air in the greenhouse was warm and damp, even on a blustery March evening. Sirius poked idly at a Snargaluff, wondering if it might be possible to cross it with a Raucous Rosebush to make a more violent and pleasantly scented hybrid. The greenhouse already smelled lovely, rich and loamy.

‘You should stay away from the Snargaluff when you’re on your own,’ said a voice behind him. ‘Those vines can be dangerous.’

Sirius turned to Bramwell and grinned. ‘My boyfriend will save me,’ he said. ‘He’s very dashing and handsome.’

‘Is that so?’ Bramwell laughed softly as he reached out to Sirius and pulled him close. ‘Sure he won’t take advantage of you while you’ll all bound up?’

‘Only if I’m very lucky,’ said Sirius. He sighed happily as Bramwell kissed him, slow and languorous in the misty heat of the greenhouse. ‘Is that what you want for your birthday – me, naked, and wrapped up in foliage?’

‘That’s… certainly an intriguing image. Let’s talk about it later.’ Bramwell stepped back, taking Sirius’ hand and leading him to one of the workbenches. Using his free hand, he brushed some fallen Mandrake leaves and a scattering of Mooncalf fertiliser out of way before leaning against the bench. ‘There was something I wanted to ask you about that, though.’

‘Let me guess, you’ve got a list of sexual favours you want to request,’ said Sirius. ‘Of course I’ll do my best but I’m drawing the line at Devil’s Snare, OK?’

‘It is a favour, actually, but not a sexual one. Try not to look too disappointed.’ Bramwell mock-frowned as Sirius feigned distress. ‘You think you can get out overnight? My sister, Magda, is gonna be back in Manchester for the weekend and she’d really like to meet you, see if you really are as great as I keep telling her. We could go out clubbing again as well.’

Sirius hesitated. He’d _really_ like to spend another night away with Bramwell, but the following Saturday – Bramwell’s birthday – was a full moon. He’d already been concerned about getting away early enough without arousing suspicion. Staying away all night was out of the question.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, with genuine regret. ‘I can’t. I’ve got detention Saturday night.’

Bramwell moved away, folding his hands across his chest. He looked at Sirius coolly, seeming uncharacteristically annoyed. 

‘You might have tried to stay out of trouble for my birthday,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

‘Bit of a conflagration in McGonagall’s office,’ said Sirius off-handedly. He couldn’t quite look Bramwell in the eye. ‘It was James’s fault really.’

‘Really.’ Bramwell’s expression hardened from cool to stone-cold.

‘Yes, really,’ said Sirius shiftily.

‘I ran into Potter just after I got the owl from Magda,’ said Bramwell. ‘I asked if he’d be alright to cover for you and he got all furtive – kind of like you’re being now, funnily enough. He did also say you might have detention but didn’t mention having anything to do with it himself.’

‘Yeah, well, he wouldn’t like to admit that he started it,’ said Sirius, making a mental note to kick James for not warning him about this earlier.

Bramwell kept watching Sirius, like he was looking for clues. ‘Did you know that prefects can look up detentions for their own Houses?’

No, Sirius didn’t know. Moony had kept awfully quiet about that one. Honestly, was Peter the only one of his friends he could trust?

‘Anyway, I have Charms with Kingsley. Your seventh year prefect?’ Bramwell reminded him. ‘He told me there are no evening detentions for Gryffindor this weekend.’

Sirius swallowed heavily. _Shit._

‘So,’ asked Bramwell. ‘What are you really doing on Saturday night?’

There was no answering that: telling the truth simply wasn’t an option, Sirius had learnt that much at least. Even so, Sirius hadn’t really done anything wrong – well, except for lying about where he’d be on Saturday, but he didn’t have a lot of choice about that. It wasn’t fair that Bramwell had him cornered. He hated feeling that way, trapped with no obvious escape except the old standby of attack as the best form of defence.

‘More to the point, why are you checking up on me?’ he demanded.

‘I wasn’t… I wasn’t checking up on you!’ said Bramwell. ‘I was trying to arrange to spend time with you. What I don’t understand is why you lied to me.’

‘I don’t have to tell you where I am every minute,’ said Sirius. ‘Fucking looking up detention records? That’s creepy.’

Bramwell looked as though he were about to shout back, but seemed to control himself far better than Sirius ever managed. When eventually he spoke again he couldn’t quite look at Sirius.

‘Are you seeing someone else?’

‘ _WHAT?_ ’

‘I said, are you seeing someone else?’ repeated Bramwell, louder, looking directly at Sirius this time. He looked hurt as much as angry.

‘You have got to be fucking kidding me,’ said Sirius. ‘Just because I don’t come running when you click your fingers _one time_ you accuse me of cheating on you?’

‘Except it’s not just one time, is it?’ said Bramwell. ‘You spent the whole of Christmas with the Potters. When we went out at Valentines you were practically falling asleep, and you certainly looked like you’d been up all night. You promised you’d come and support me at every Quidditch game this year but you’ve only actually shown up once, and you spent most of that winding up Slytherins with your mates.’

Sirius glowered back angrily. That was all… well, strictly speaking it was true but none of it was his fault. The Potters had been so good about taking Callie to the Animal Healer after she threw up at their New Year’s party, it would’ve been rude to just rush off back to school early. The night before Valentine’s had been another full moon. And Sirius had meant to watch the Hufflepuff v Ravenclaw game, he really had, but James had _needed_ his help getting back at Snivellus for jinxing his own books to bite him, and in front of Evans too.

‘So, what, I’m not allowed to spend time with my friends now, is that it?’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Bramwell. ‘I’ve never tried to stop you having friends, I wouldn’t. Stop twisting things, that’s not what this is about.’

‘And what is this about precisely?’ asked Sirius.

‘For starters there’s the way you keep blowing hot and cold all the time,’ said Bramwell, sounding more exasperated than angry. ‘One minute you claim to be in love with me and the next it’s like you can’t be bothered to see me at all.’

Sirius looked down, kicking a stray Snargaluff pod with the tip of his boot. ‘You never said it back,’ he said quietly, trying and failing to keep the bite of resentment out of his voice. He hated how pathetic he sounded.

‘Is that what –’ Bramwell broke off and took deep breath, raking his fingers through his hair. He seemed to be trying very hard to collect himself. 

‘I really like you, Sirius. That’s why I wanted to spend my birthday with you. I have got friends of my own, you know, and I could’ve planned something with them. I wanted to do something special with _you_.’

He sounded unhappy, and that made Sirius feel much worse than he had when Bramwell was shouting at him. As his own defensive anger faded, Sirius realised he really wasn’t helping matters. Ducking out on Bramwell on his birthday, lying about why, and then flying off the handle – it was hardly the way to convince Bramwell to fall in love with him. All Sirius seemed to be doing was letting him down. It was wretched to be such a disappointment, and Sirius couldn’t really see a way out of it.

‘I really do love you,’ he said, hoping it sounded more placatory than petulant. ‘And I’m sorry about your birthday. I’ll make it up to you.’

He leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Bramwell’s mouth. Bramwell allowed the kiss, but made no effort to return it.

‘Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing on Saturday?’ he asked.

‘I can’t,’ admitted Sirius. ‘Look, I know it sounds dodgy but you’ve got to trust me, Bram. I’m not cheating on you, I wouldn’t.’

‘If you say there’s no-one else, then I believe you,’ said Bramwell. ‘I didn’t mean to accuse you, I was just disappointed. I wish you trusted me enough to tell me the truth.’

Sirius didn’t have an answer for that either, so he tried to dodge the matter, pulling Bramwell towards him and kissing him again. ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he repeated.

‘Perhaps you will.’ Bramwell forced a small smile and kissed Sirius briefly on the cheek. ‘I should go. Quidditch practice.’

‘I could come and watch,’ offered Sirius. ‘Cheer you on.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ said Bramwell. ‘I’m sure you’ve got more important things to be doing.’

‘I want to,’ said Sirius. He had promised to help Wormtail with their Charms essay, but Prongs could do that since it was his fault for dropping Sirius in it to start with.

‘Thanks. That would be nice.’ Bramwell’s smile seemed more genuine this time. ‘I have to get changed. I’ll see you at the pitch.’

Sirius nodded his agreement as Bramwell turned to hurry away. Moving more slowly, Sirius followed, pulling a mirror out of his robes as he went. Scowling, he looked into the mirror and muttered, ‘James Potter’, as he walked out of the greenhouse.

#

When Sirius got back to the dorm it was empty save for Callie, busy scratching James’s bedpost. James and Peter would still be in the library working on the Charms essay; most likely Remus had gone with them.

‘Hey, sweetheart,’ he said, disentangling Callie’s claws and picking her up. Callie wriggled and hissed at him, leaving Sirius struggling to hold her with one hand while the other dug around his pockets for a suitable snack to serve as a peace offering, finally pulling out a stale lump of cheese. ‘Have a heart, Callie; you can’t be angry with me as well.’

‘That beast finally showing her true colours?’ asked Remus from the doorway.

‘Hey, Moony.’ Sirius looked up and smiled. ‘No picking on Callie, you know she’s sensitive.’

‘As a horde of rampaging erumpents,’ muttered Remus, rolling his eyes.

Sirius loftily rose above it, choosing to ignore Moony’s provocation in favour of carrying Callie back to his own bed. It was a two-arm job, actually, because Callie had fair been piling on the pounds lately and was now the size of a full-grown badger. It was good to see her getting so hale and hearty.

‘Are Prongs and Wormtail still at the library?’ asked Sirius. ‘Thought you’d be with them.’

Remus shrugged. ‘Was for a bit. I wanted to talk to you though, so we kept the Map open to see when you were coming back.’

‘Something that matter?’

‘Prongs told me you and Baxendale had a falling out,’ said Remus, looking profoundly uncomfortable as he sat down on his own bed, opposite Sirius. ‘About Saturday.’

‘Prongs wants to learn when to shut his mouth,’ grumbled Sirius. ‘It’s nothing, really, don’t worry about it.’

Remus looked sceptical and Sirius found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could keep a better grip on his emotions. Was he always so transparent?

‘You should go with him,’ said Remus. ‘It’s only one month, I don’t mind if you miss it.’

‘ _I_ mind,’ insisted Sirius hotly. Honestly, letting down people he cared about wasn’t something he exactly planned on. ‘I promised I always would and I meant it. I won’t let you down, Moony.’

‘I know you won’t,’ said Remus kindly. ‘But it’s causing problems for you and I don’t want to come between you and Baxendale. I know he’s important to you as well.’

Sirius shrugged and looked downwards, concentrating very hard on an orange patch of Callie’s fur. ‘It’s not your fault.’

It was very considerate of Remus to offer – and quite typically self-sacrificing Sirius thought with a bite of annoyance. It really wasn’t his fault either, though, and anyway, it wasn’t like Sirius wanted to miss the full moon. He just didn’t want it to be such an _issue_. Perhaps if Bramwell actually loved him he’d be more understanding.

Dimly, Sirius was aware that wasn’t really fair. He couldn’t blame Bramwell for being annoyed that Sirius had lied to him. He’d just thought that love would make things a lot easier. Did Andromeda have those sort of fights with Ted? Sirius wondered if he should write and ask for her advice on how to avoid disappointing your boyfriend.

‘Padfoot, are you OK?’ asked Remus.

‘Yeah, fine.’ Sirius shook himself out of his reverie, realising he hadn’t said anything to Remus for a while. ‘Look, it’s fine. We had a bit of a row and it wasn’t pleasant but it’s done. I’ll be there are as usual on Saturday and in future… well, I’ll just have to watch what I say.’

‘You shouldn’t have to be, though,’ said Remus, staring down at the floor. ‘Look, I know we all promised… thought that we’d be Marauders forever, all in our little gang but… that’s just not realistic, is it?’

‘Why not?’ snapped Sirius.

‘Because we’ve all got to grow up sometime!’ Remus’ voice grew louder as he warmed to his theme. ‘It’s all very well keeping secrets from teachers and other students, but what happens after school? You can’t fall asleep at work like you can in History of Magic class because you’ve been out all night running about with a werewolf.’

‘We’ll work something out,’ said Sirius vaguely. He wasn’t sure where all this was coming from.

‘But it’s not just that, it’s the personal stuff too,’ said Remus. ‘I know you, Padfoot, and while you’d happily tell every teacher in the castle that the sun rises in the west and that’s a hippogriff sitting on your lap, you hate lying to people you actually care about. It’s no wonder you couldn’t bullshit your way out of it with Baxendale.’

Sirius opened his mouth to argue and the closed it again. He supposed Moony had a point. Huh. He’d never noticed it before.

‘Prongs is just as bad,’ Remus continued. ‘That’s why the two of you never have any secrets from each other. Wormtail’s not much better. And that’s fine at school where the most important people are your mates, but it’s not going to be like that forever, is it? Someday you’re all going to have to move on, have families of your own, get married – ’

‘Married?’ said Sirius, startling so hard he nearly threw Callie off his knee. What the fuck? ‘You fucking get married.’

‘That’s hardly likely,’ said Remus, and Sirius wasn’t sure if it was his own increasingly bad mood or whether there really was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

He was really pissing Sirius off by this point.

‘In case you’d forgotten, I’m the one who _can’t_ get married,’ he said. ‘Not to someone I love anyway.’

He’d have had to do it eventually if he’d wanted to stay with his family, of course. A respectable pure-blood marriage was considered essential, regardless of sexuality or personal preference. Everyone knew that Rodolphous Lestrange was as gay as a maypole and none of the family gave a dragon’s fresh fart – wasn’t like anyone thought he was marrying Bellatrix for _love_ , after all.

‘Sorry,’ said Remus, looking shame-faced. ‘That was thoughtless of me.’

‘Yeah, less of that,’ said Sirius. He threw Remus a sly grin and stretched his leg out across the gap between their beds to kick him on the ankle. ‘You’re intruding on my territory.’

Remus managed a small chuckle, but he still looked horribly awkward. ‘Of course, you know I think you should be able to get married, if you wanted to,’ he said. ‘I know it isn’t really fair that – ’

‘– Moony, please,’ Sirius cut him off with a wave of his hand. ‘If you’re going to give me some equal rights speech I _will_ hex you.’

Honestly, marriage? Sirius didn’t know if he’d want to get married even if he could. Would he marry Bramwell? The idea seemed absurdly comical, like playing house, the way Narcissa bullied him into when they were kids. He was only seventeen, after all. Trust Moony to get carried away with over-planning and over-analysing things.

‘OK, OK.’ Remus held up his hands in surrender. ‘I only meant that it’s a lot more likely that someone would actually want to marry you.’

Sirius tutted at him. ‘And none of the wolf-y martyr nonsense, either,’ he said. ‘You didn’t think you’d get to come to Hogwarts until you did. You thought you wouldn’t have friends but you’ve got us. You were sure nothing that could make full moons any better but then we became Animagi and it’s fucking awesome. So don’t go getting all maudlin about how you’ll never find true love. It’ll happen for you, I know it.’

Remus looked at him with open amazement –literally, mouth wide, catching flies. ‘I’d forgotten what a romantic you are,’ he said at last. ‘It’s absurd.’

‘I think you mean charming,’ said Sirius. ‘Anyway, enough of the guilt trip. You’re not sabotaging my chance of happiness with the weight of your shameful secrets so stop worrying about it.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Remus. ‘Just, you know, if you did find it was making things too difficult for you to come I’d understand.’

‘Not gonna happen, Moony,’ Sirius assured him. He was really feeling a lot better already. Teasing Moony had that effect on him. ‘Although if you did really want to help me put things right with Bram you could, say, share a little insider information.’

Remus looked blank. ‘What do you want?

‘Well, I did promise I’d make it up to him, but it’s so hard to find somewhere quiet around the castle, you know?’ said Sirius. ‘Plus I really do need to give Callie a bath so it would be like killing two birds with one stone.’

‘Padfoot, you promised.’ Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be over his guilty conscience. ‘You promised never to ask for the password to the prefects’ bathroom again. Not after Custard Night.’

Sirius scoffed. Custard Night hadn’t really been that bad. The house elves had got the ceiling clean eventually, and no-one had suffered anything worse than a sprain and some light bruising.

‘So don’t ask,’ Remus added sternly.

‘I didn’t. I wouldn’t.’ Sirius shot Remus one of his most dazzling smiles, not fooled in the least at the way Remus rolled his eyes in response. ‘It would be a very thoughtful and considerate act of friendship if you were to volunteer the information. Out of the goodness of your heart.’

‘You are the absolute limit,’ muttered Remus as he stood and headed to the doorway. He paused, halfway out the door before turning back to Sirius. ‘Lilac Breeze, wanker.’

‘That’s a pretty aggressive password,’ said Sirius before beaming up at Remus. ‘Thank you!’

#

Sirius did spend that full moon with Remus and their fellow Marauders, and the next and the one after that. He was careful to plan things better so he spent plenty of time with Bramwell in between and organised watertight alibis for the actual full moons. Bramwell appeared to be over the whole mess of his birthday and it seemed like they’d moved on.

Which made it all the more surprising when Bramwell sat Sirius down in a corner of the library on a quiet Sunday afternoon, ominously announcing that they “needed to talk”. Sirius might not have been terribly experienced in matters of the heart, but he knew that wasn’t good.

‘Something up?’

Bramwell took a deep breath, and let go of the loose button on the cuff of his robes that he’d been playing with. He looked at Sirius, his expression solemn.

‘There’s no easy way of saying this,’ he began. ‘I don’t think we should see each other anymore.’

Sirius blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m finishing school in a few weeks, and then I’ll be starting work. Magda’s got me a junior position at her company,’ explained Bramwell. ‘You’ve still got another year at Hogwarts and… I can’t see things working out long-distance.’

‘I don’t have to come back for seventh year,’ said Sirius quickly, in a desperate bid to forestall the inevitable. ‘I could go with you.’

‘You have to finish your N.E.W.T.s,’ said Bramwell. ‘And all your friends will be here. You wouldn’t want to leave Hogwarts without them, not really.’

Sirius couldn’t truthfully argue with that, so he just stared down at a scratch on the table while Bramwell finished.

‘We’re just going to be doing very different things. It’s better if we just make a clean break now.’

‘You’re breaking up with me?’ asked Sirius.

Bramwell nodded sadly.

‘But I don’t want to break up,’ said Sirius, indignant. It wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. He was only vaguely aware that he was getting louder, almost shouting. ‘You can’t just _leave_ me.’

‘I’m sorry, Sirius, I don’t want to hurt you,’ said Bramwell, his own voice barely above a whisper but still firm.

‘Then don’t fucking dump me,’ said Sirius, hating how petulant he sounded and the pitying look Bramwell gave him in equal measure.

Bramwell didn’t answer, just looked at Sirius, his expression concerned but resolute. Sirius wanted to shout and rage that it wasn’t on, that Bramwell wasn’t _allowed_ to break up with him, but in spite of his anger he could see how pointless that would be. Bramwell’s mind was made up. Sirius just couldn’t see _why_.

‘What did I do wrong?’ he asked in a small voice.

‘It wasn’t anything you did,’ said Bramwell kindly. ‘We had some good times and I don’t regret being with you. It’s just time to move on.’

‘You’re the only one moving on.’

‘This isn’t easy for me either,’ said Bramwell, ignoring Sirius’ snort of disbelief. ‘I really do think it’s for the best in the long run. For both of us.’

The kindness was the worst part – it took the wind out of Sirius’ anger, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. Part of him wanted to tell Bramwell where to stick his sympathy but another – a pitiful, worthless part wanted to let the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes fall, in the hope that Bramwell would feel sorry enough to take him back.

Sirius despised his own weakness almost as much as the humiliation of rejection.

‘You’ll get over this,’ Bramwell assured him. He placed his hand just lightly over Sirius arm, and gave it a small squeeze. ‘I think you were always a bit more in love with love than you ever were with me. You’ll find someone else.’

‘Don’t fucking patronise me,’ shot Sirius, the anger surging back with reassuring familiarity. ‘Fine, I can’t stop you ditching me but I don’t have to listen to you making fun of how I feel.’

Bramwell drew his hand back and rubbed his forehead. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I really don’t want to hurt you. I had hoped we might still be friends.’

‘Hardly,’ said Sirius contemptuously, scraping his chair back and getting to his feet. ‘I’ve got friends. They actually care about me, they don’t just use me for sex and then dump when it’s becomes too much trouble to send a fucking owl once in a while.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Bramwell. ‘Look, I know you’re upset but I was never - ’

But Sirius didn’t want to hear it. ‘Oh, fuck off,’ he shouted, as he stormed out of the library.

#

Returning to an empty dormitory, Sirius kicked over the first available bed-side table (Peter’s), chucked a Quaffle at the mirror by James’s bed (sadly not breaking it), and upended a half-drunk bottle of pumpkin fizz over Remus’s trunk before throwing himself down on his own bed, tearing one of the curtains as he did so.

Where the fuck was everyone? Even Callie had deserted him, the furry little traitor. Sirius was left to cope on his own with no friends, no boyfriend, and no pet. He was just working himself up into a full-on sulk when James arrived, struggling to carry a wriggling kneazle, who was mewling furiously. Callie leapt down and bounded onto Sirius, wheezing slightly from the exertion of jumping up onto the bed.

‘Hello, princess,’ said Sirius, slightly mollified.

‘You know, I half expected to find you with at least a limb missing, fuss she was making,’ said James. ‘So, what’s happened?’

Sirius stopped petting Callie to and stared down at his hands. ‘Baxendale dumped me.’

‘Shit.’ James swore softly and sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Do you want me to hex him for you?’

Sirius half-smiled, budging up so that James could sit beside him properly. ‘He already seems to think I’m a stupid kid.’

‘In that case it’s going to have to be a particularly nasty hex,’ said James. ‘Do you wanna talk about it? You guys have another fight?’

‘Not really.’ Sirius shrugged. ‘I thought things were going OK, you know? But he’s about to finish Hogwarts and, I don’t know, do grown up shit and meet other men. He didn’t want to be stuck with some schoolboy boyfriend hanging on.’

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning that Sirius had, briefly, offered to leave Hogwarts to be with Bramwell. Not only was it ridiculously unlikely that he’d ever do such a thing, it was embarrassing to have suggested it. That sort of childish impulsiveness was most likely exactly why Bramwell hadn’t taken him seriously.

‘I suppose it would be hard to keep things going when one of you is at Hogwarts and the other isn’t,’ James mused thoughtfully. ‘But I guess you were prepared to try and make a go of the whole long-distance relationship thing?’

Sirius shrugged. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. It was, strangely, somehow easier to be honest with James than with himself. ‘I just really wanted him to love me.’

‘Oh, Padfoot.’ James wrapped his arms around Sirius, ignoring Callie’s squeaked protest as he pulled him into a tight hug. Sirius, very magnanimously, allowed himself to be hugged. James was his best friend, after all. If anyone could make sure he held it together, it was Prongs.

And because James was a truly exceptional friend, he didn’t bore Sirius with any trite old rubbish about how Baxendale obviously didn’t deserve him if he didn’t know a good thing when he saw it, or that Sirius was sure to find someone else, someone better. Instead he just patted Sirius on the back and asked the important questions.

‘So, you wanna go out and get shitfaced, maybe set fire to something?’

Sirius sniffed and nodded tightly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That might help.’


	4. Truth Potion No. 3:  December 1977

_Truth Potion No. 3: December 1977. Administered by Alice Longbottom, Auror, on behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Supplied by the Ministry of Magic._

Snow had been falling all morning, rendering the whole of Hogsmeade picturesque and still, if somewhat damp underfoot. Sirius carried Callie, who tended to slip on the ice and land in slushy puddles of sludge otherwise, as he trudged along between Lily and James. Lily had already spent a good half-hour listing off potential suitors for Sirius, all of whom he’d rejected for being too ugly, too Slytherin, too straight, too boring, or too yeasty. 

‘Honestly, Lils, the way you keep trying to fix me up, I’m starting to wonder if you and Prongs don’t want me tagging along on dates with you,’ said Sirius.

‘Imagine,’ muttered Lily. Then she turned to Sirius and smiled, adding more kindly, ‘We just want you to be happy.’

‘And to fuck off occasionally,’ added James. ‘Really, Padfoot, how come you never want to get in the way of Moony or Wormtail’s love lives?’

‘Moony and Wormtail aren’t punching above their weight the way you are, mate,’ said Sirius. ‘If I’m gonna play second-fiddle to one of my mates’ girlfriends, it might at least be the hottest one.’

Sirius had gate-crashed one of Wormtail’s dates earlier that term, with a drippy sixth-year who had got some daft idea that Sirius was there to compete with Peter for her affections. Sirius had been so offended that he’d informed her – by means of a short dramatic presentation – that he was actually vying with her for Wormtail’s, uh, doughy charms and sent the flighty piece on her way with a dose of blue boils on the back of her neck. Wormtail had seen the funny side eventually.

He’d never felt like interrupting any of Moony’s dates, though. Not that Remus went on that many dates, and they were all pretty casual. Of course, Moony was more sensitive, he probably wouldn’t like it.

‘You won’t have to put up with me much longer,’ Sirius went on. ‘Callie and I have an appointment at the hairdressers after lunch. See how soon you two lovebirds get bored without me.’

‘It’ll be a struggle, mate, but we’ll find a way,’ said James. ‘Do they actually let her in the hairdressers?’

Sirius snuggled Callie a bit closer to his chest. She was kind of hard to carry. ‘Well, they probably won’t let any old kneazle in, but Callie’s special,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t hurt that having me in the salon is excellent advertising for them.’

‘Lily, do me a favour and hex Padfoot for me,’ scoffed James.

‘He’s your best friend, you hex him,’ said Lily, but she still managed to stuff a handful of snow down the back of Sirius’ neck.

Sirius had got most of it out by the time they reached Spintwitches. Lily’s broom-building the previous year had gone so well that messing about with brooms had become a hobby for her. It might have helped bring her and James closer together, had they not managed to disagree on everything from the desirability of hazel versus birch twigs to the correct distribution of Stabilising Charms. Sirius thought their broom-related bickering was a pretty unique form of foreplay, and told them both so as often as he thought he could get away with.

The Sporting Goods store was quiet, the terrible weather having put people off flying. James and Lily spent an age debating which brand of Anti-jinx Varnish to buy while Sirius set Callie down to chase a Quaffle around the aisles. There was a gaggle of younger students – fourth years, it looked like – hanging around by the door, checking out the spinner full of Quidditch-themed novelty gifts.

The shopkeeper, Kiran, a spry young bloke who liked to bore everyone rigid about that one time he had a try out for the Canons, was trying to arrange a display of discount Silver Arrows into the shape of a Christmas Tree in front of the window. It looked… fairly terrible, actually, even after he Stunned a box of Snitches to hang as baubles. Sirius was getting bored, and half-thinking about pushing off and leaving Lily and James to themselves when it happened.

A single explosion at first, a fierce, scorching burst of sound from somewhere to the south. Dervish and Banges, perhaps? There was no time for Sirius to think on it as the first blast was followed by a second, and then another, then one final ear-splitting crash and the world around him was blown to smithereens. Behind Sirius the huge, solid-oak cabinet displaying Quidditch uniforms toppled and fell, and then everything went black.

Sirius came to on the floor, coughing on smoke, his ears ringing with the sound of distant screaming. There was a fierce, vicious pain in his leg, which was trapped under the fallen cabinet. The shop was in turmoil – broken glass, bits of shattered broomsticks, all kinds of merchandise scattered across the floor. In the middle of all the disruption was the bizarre sight of Callie chasing an escaped pack of snitches, like a house cat playing with butterflies.

‘Jamie!’ Sirius croaked out. ‘James, where are – ’

A warm hand on his shoulder cut him off.

‘Right here, Padfoot.’

Sirius angled his head to see James crouching beside him, his free hand levitating the fallen cabinet off Sirius’ leg.

‘Lily?’

‘Over there.’ James indicated the doorway with a tilt of his head. Sirius could just see Lily standing with fourth-years, issuing strict instructions for them to go _now_ , straight back to the castle. Don’t go looking for anyone, just _run_.

With the cabinet up off his leg Sirius was able to struggle to a sitting position, but the pain was still excruciating. James crouched behind him, holding him up, while Lily scooted across to have a look.

‘Let me see,’ she mumbled, using her wand to cut Sirius’ jeans at the knee. He’d get her back for that when he wasn’t in agonising pain. ‘Looks like a broken ankle. I’m not sure if we should reset it or – ’

‘I can do it,’ said Sirius grimly. The spell for mending broken bones wasn’t hard, he’d fixed Peter’s arm back in fourth year after he’d fallen out of a tree. Thing was, they’d Stunned Pete first, so he hadn’t felt it. Magically manipulating his ankle back into place, muscles shifting, bones re-knitting… _Merlin, shit, fuck_ … it hurt even worse than the original break.

‘You alright, mate?’ James looked deeply concerned, his eyes owlishly wide behind his glasses as Sirius thrashed against him, pale with pain.

‘Smarts a bit,’ Sirius managed through gritted teeth. The pain was receding already, and Lily helped him out with a well-placed Cooling Charm. He’d be able to stand in a few minutes, though it would be a couple of hours until his leg was fully functioning. ‘Any idea what the fuck’s going on?’

‘Oh, I’ve got a very good idea.’ There was a strange, distant quality to James’s voice as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at Sirius; instead his eyes were fixed on the large gap in the ceiling caused by the explosion. Sirius had to twist painfully to follow his gaze.

There, in the cashmere grey of the winter sky, hung a hideous constellation of emerald stars swathed in green smoke, painting the image of a gigantic skull vomiting a snake onto the sky over Hogsmeade. The Dark Mark.

‘Fuck,’ Lily swore softly beside him. Sirius thought it summed the situation up fairly well. But they still needed to _do_ something.

A violent shove onto James’s shoulder helped Sirius make it to his feet, but his ankle was still weak and he stumbled forwards, clumsy and coltish. James caught his elbow, looking Sirius straight in the eye.

‘You need to stay here.’

Dimly, Sirius could hear shouting from somewhere in the near distance. People were running. There was fighting.

‘No fucking way,’ he said. ‘Those bastards – ’

‘Will get what’s coming to them,’ James finished for him. ‘But not from you, not this time. You can barely walk.’

‘I don’t need to be able to walk to cast a decent hex,’ said Sirius. It was stupid, a pointless argument in the middle of a genuine crisis, but somehow it made everything seem a bit more normal. Besides, bickering took his mind off the pain.

‘Padfoot, I am not going to piggyback you around Hogsmeade while you try to hex Death Eaters,’ said James. ‘For the love of Merlin, will you sit the fuck down.’

Sirius would’ve had a good comeback for that, he really would, but they were interrupted by a loud groan from the other side of the shop. There, in a sea of shattered glass and broken wood lay Kiran, surrounded by the detritus of the display he’d been building only minutes before. Lily was the first to reach him.

‘He’s really hurt,’ she said, turning back to James and Sirius. ‘The window… he must have caught the full force of the blast… he’s covered in cuts.’

With great effort, Sirius made his way over to the injured man. He was bleeding profusely, teetering on the brink of consciousness.

‘I’ll take care of him,’ said Sirius, falling to his knees beside Kiran. It was actually a lot less painful like that. ‘Might as well make myself useful.’

Lily and James exchanged a look he didn’t have time to decipher before James turned to him and nodded. Outside there was a vicious peel of laughter, followed by more screaming. What the hell was going on out there? 

‘You’ll stay here,’ said James. It was practically an order, and a little bit a question. 

Sirius nodded mutely.

‘We’ll be back soon,’ said Lily, scrambling to her feet to head after James.

Sirius couldn’t do much more than nod at her as well. Quickly, Lily ducked down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning back to James. He took her hand and they were out of the door in an instant, running straight into the fray. They looked beautiful together, righteous and fierce, not a broken mess like Sirius on the floor. He almost wanted to hate them for it.

Another groan, quieter this time, pulled Sirius’ attention back to the bloodied figure before him. If he couldn’t fight, he could still _do_ something. Sirius could save him.

There was blood, a lot of it, and Sirius wasn't even sure where most of it was coming from. This wasn't like patching up his friends or himself after running about the forest, a rowdy Quidditch practice, or oops, maybe that window was a bit high. There was a very real chance that Kiran might die from his injuries. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. Placing a hand gingerly over Kiran's neck, checking the pulse and breathing, Sirius could feel his vital signs getting weaker, and the slow static burn of his magic fading.

There was no time to think about the fight outside, what James and Lily might be doing or where the hell Remus and Peter were. The rest of the world seemed to drift away into silence, like that muffled sense of waking up after a heavy snowfall. All that was real was Sirius, the dying man before him, and the blood pouring onto the floor.

Carefully, Sirius pulled back Kiran's robes to inspect the injuries. Plenty of small cuts and abrasions across his chest and shoulders, but the worst was a large shard of glass in his abdomen. His body was a mess. The body held no fear for Sirius - hadn't he learnt control enough of his own to reshape it utterly, rearranging himself into his own canine alter-ego? _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_. The spell had taught him patience too, and focus. He didn't advertise that he still recited the incantation years later, to centre and calm himself. 

Lifting his wand Sirius Vanished the vomit and faeces, but Summoned a spare Quidditch jersey to mop up the blood. Kiran's complexion was fading and his skin felt cold, clammy to the touch. He needed Blood-Replenishing Potion. They'd have it at Pippin's Potions but Summoning a glass bottle that distance through a fight was a recipe for disaster. 

A frantic squawk caught his attention. Sirius looked back and called Callie over.

'C'mere, sweetheart, can you do something for me?'

She came bounding over at once, fat fluffy tail waving in the dust and mess of the half-destroyed store, and listened with her head tilted as Sirius whispered directions to collect a bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion from Pippin's Potions a few doors down. Lifting the cuff of his jacket, Sirius drew the logo for the potion in spilt blood on his forearm. Callie yelped and trotted off, and Sirius could only hope she was half as smart as he kept telling everyone as he turned his attention back to Kiran.

He healed a number of the larger gashes, magically pulling out broken glass and re-weaving the skin. It didn't seem to be making much difference though, and Sirius suspected that much of the real damage was deeper down. He couldn't see beneath the skin, though, although he was sure that was theoretically possible. Perhaps...

On an impulse, Sirius cast the counter spell to a Disillusionment Charm on his own hand. It made the skin look fuzzy at first, like a smudged pastel drawing. Gradually, though, his skin lightened until it appeared transparent, and Sirius could see the bones of his own hand, the muscles that lay over, and the blood vessels around them clear as an anatomical textbook.

Carefully, he looked over at the main injury in Kiran's abdomen, the jagged chunk of glass sticking out like a slender ice-burg. Sirius didn't dare pull it out without seeing what was happening beneath the skin, for fear of rupturing unseen organs. He cast the same spell he'd used on his hand on Kiran, watching with quiet fascination as his skin seemed to fade away. At last, he could see the outline of the glass pane, digging deep into Kiran's body. It had nicked his intestine, but Sirius thought - hoped - he could pull it out without doing any further damage.

After what seemed like an eternity of painstaking, patient spell work - Sirius' arm was aching from the effort of holding his wand over Kiran's wounds - the largest piece of glass and several other smaller ones were gone. Sirius managed to close over most of the wounds, not always the neatest job and there'd likely be scars, but the Charms should hold. Kiran wasn't bleeding anymore but he was cold to the touch and still unconscious, his breathing light and weak. Charms were all well and good but he needed the potion and he needed it soon if he was to stand any chance of survival.

Sirius was starting to wonder if he should risk going to fetch some himself, or else simply _Accio_ it after all when the door swung open and Callie came in, rolling a small glass bottle before her. 

Glancing past her, Sirius could see another, near-identical bottle lying smashed on the pavement just outside the shop. How many times had she tried to bring the potion to him?

'Good girl, well done,' he murmured approvingly, scooping Callie up as best he could with one arm as he picked up the potion in his free hand. He pulled the stopper out with between his teeth before pouring a few drops down Kiran's throat. Kiran coughed, but he didn't bring up any more blood this time. Sirius sat back down beside him, one hand distractedly running through Callie's fur as he glanced at the clock behind the counter. According to his mental-arithmetic calculations, Kiran would need at least five or six doses of the potion, taken a teaspoonful at a time, every ten minutes.

The tumult outside subsided, and Dumbledore's magically-amplified voice echoed through Hogsmeade as Sirius settled down to wait.

#

Later, much later, after the teachers, and the Aurors, and Healers arrived to clean up the mess, Sirius was striding through the castle alone. He hadn't been allowed to see James, and couldn't find Remus - what the fuck was the point of having a fucking magic map if the person you're looking for probably already had it anyway? He wasn't looking for trouble. He just wasn't ready to speak to the Aurors just yet. Bunch of useless dumbfucks.

It was sheer chance that he ran into Nott skulking around the Arithmancy corridor and Sirius would really, really have liked to know why the creepy little shit hadn't been arrested. The attack on Hogsmeade, from what little he'd been able to find out, hadn't been the work of fully fledged Death Eaters (or, at least, none of them had been caught) but it was sympathisers. Some sort of twisted initiation rite, no doubt. Nott was one of them, bound to be, that slimy little gang of Slytherin shits had been full of the Dark Arts and their precious scumbag Dark Lord for years.

Sirius didn't remember getting his wand out, or what either of them said, but he was chest to chest with Nott, wand pointing at the evil little shit's neck, blood pounding in his ears when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

'Sirius. Sirius, listen to me.' Lily's voice seemed to be coming from very far away, like she was talking to him down a long tunnel. Sirius shook his head, trying to clear the fog, and allowed himself to be moved to one side.

'That's it, Black, run along with your little mudblood friend. We'll get her next time.'

There was a Curse on Sirius' lips but he realised, a fraction of a second too late, that Lily had already plucked his wand from out of his fingers. He was ready to resort to fists instead, but then Remus was in the way - where had he come from? – standing between him and Nott.

' _Expelliarmus_ ,' whispered Lily behind them. Nott's wand flew from his hand, clattering on the stone floor where it landed several feet away. Nott looked very much like he was on the brink of forgetting he was above fist fighting like a common Muggle and just decking someone when Remus took a step closer, wand raised.

'Try me,' he said coolly.

Without a wand or back-up, Nott had little choice but to retreat, muttering darkly as went. Sirius heard a low, animal growl, and only realised it was him as Lily held him back.

'Padfoot, we need to go,' said Remus, his voice soft and quiet. How had he got there? Sirius glanced between him and Lily, looking for answers.

'Dumbledore got word from St Mungo's,' said Lily. 'The man from Spintwitches, Kiran, he's going to be OK. They’re really impressed with the treatment you gave him.'

Sirius just stared at her, not quite taking it in.

'You saved his life.'

It was all a bit too much. The afternoon in Hogsmeade already seemed an awfully long way away.

'Prongs should be finished with the Aurors now,' said Remus.

Sirius turned back to him at once. 'James, is he..?'

'Fine,' said Lily, taking his arm. 'Come on, we'll take you to him.'

Sirius nodded, glad to have her and Remus both beside him as they led him away.

#

'I want you to know, you're not in any trouble.' The friendly, round-faced witch sitting across the desk seemed more like a kindly teacher than an Auror. Sirius dimly remembered her as a Ravenclaw prefect some years before - she'd been Alice Fortescue then, but had introduced herself as Longbottom. 'All the witnesses are being questioned, not just suspects.'

‘What’s that for then?' said Sirius, indicating the bottle of Veritaserum on the desk between them. 

Alice just smiled again. 'That helps us prove that your evidence is reliable,' she said. 'If it is used before the Wizengamot then it'll be harder for anyone to accuse you of lying.’

It wasn't a guarantee, Sirius knew, because there were ways around truth potions, but he supposed he could see her point. Grudgingly he accepted the dropper Alice held out.

'Well then,' he said, twisting his face into a smirk. 'Ask me anything.'

There wasn't much he really could say about the attack itself, since he'd spent the whole time in Spintwitches, but he could talk about when the explosions went off, the appearance of the Dark Mark, and the damage done to Spintwitches.

'I understand there were some younger students in the shop when the explosions occurred. Miss Evans directed them to return to the castle. Is that correct?'

'Yes,' said Sirius. He'd mentioned as much to one of the other Aurors back in Hogsmeade.

'You said that Regulus Black was among them. Is that true?'

Sirius had said it, only because some dickhead from the Ministry was making comments about Reg and the Death Eaters. Sirius wasn't having any of it; Regulus was a prize twat, for sure, but he wasn't a Death Eater. It'd been a stupid lie, though, because there'd been no chance to get Lily and James to back him up and now...

'No,' he was forced to admit. 'It wasn't true.'

He glanced away from Alice nervously. Lying to teachers was one thing, but getting caught lying to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a very different matter. Sirius wasn't sure how much trouble this might land him in.

Alice didn't answer straight away. Instead, she stopped the Quick Quotes Quill that had been spelled to record their conversation with a sweep of her hand.

'You were trying to protect your brother?' she suggested softly.

'It had nothing to do with him,' Sirius insisted hotly. 'OK, I know I didn't see him but he didn't do it. He wouldn't.'

Alice looked at him kindly. 'As it happens, Regulus has an alibi,' she said. 'Several witnesses put him at Flourish and Blotts at the time of the explosions. It doesn't wholly exonerate him, but at this moment he's unlikely to be charged with anything.'

Sirius nodded mutely. He felt more stupid than ever - not only had his impulsive lie been easily disproven, it had been completely unnecessary. Regulus wouldn’t have even been grateful anyway.

'What about me?' asked Sirius.

'This is your official interview. As you were unable to provide any significant information in the immediate aftermath of the attack, we won't be keeping a record of any comments made in the heat of the moment.' Alice gave him a significant look. 'This time.'

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He was off the hook.

'You can go now,' said Alice. 'Just remember that you aren't alone in finding yourself potentially on a different side of this conflict to people you’ve been close to. It's never easy, but I would urge you to practice caution.'

'Thanks,' said Sirius, grateful to be let off with a warning but less keen to hear any more advice about family.

#

The Hogsmeade attack put a dampener on Christmas festivities, and brought the war they all knew was brewing outside Hogwarts frighteningly closer. The castle hummed with rumours about the heroes and villains of the day. A couple of Slytherin seventh years had quietly disappeared, though Sirius was sure most of the guilty parties were still lingering about Hogwarts making nuisances of themselves. Some students had been injured enough to require longish stays in the Hospital Wing or even St Mungo’s, and one fifth year never came back. Lily and James had both been fêted for bravery in skirmishes they refused to discuss, James in particular surprising Sirius by being, for the first time ever, visibly uncomfortable with general adulation.

Sirius sat up late neglecting N.E.W.T. study in favour of anatomy texts and _SpellWell_ , the Healing journal he’d managed to wheedle Madam Pince into ordering in to the library. The memory of treating Kiran stayed with him, the fact of holding another person’s life in his hands strangely compelling. He kept the unfilled application form for the training programme at St Mungo’s at the back of his trunk, unsure if he was ready for the responsibility.

As compensation for the lack of Christmas celebrations, or perhaps to dispel the air of creeping anxiety that seemed to befall the school, the teachers had declared that Hogwarts would hold a May Gala, complete with a feast and dancing, as a final celebration before everyone had to knuckle down for last-minute exam revision.

Sirius had to admit that the prospect of an enormous bonfire cheered him up. The ball part presented more difficulties. It wasn’t _essential_ that he went with a partner, but it was strongly encouraged, mostly by Lily and James. He’d managed to dodge well-meaning enquiries about his romantic prospects by letting James think he was still licking his wounds after the break-up with Baxendale, though in truth he sometimes thought wistfully of his time with Bramwell, but he wasn’t exactly crying into his pillow over him.

There was also the fact that the only person Sirius really felt much like asking out had already turned him down once. Sirius had got over Remus refusing him, he really had, and he’d not spent the whole time since pining uselessly. And yet… Remus seemed to be creeping back under his skin, filling Sirius’ mind with fanciful hopes and desires he thought he’d shaken off long since.

It didn’t help that Remus had confessed – under some considerable duress, mostly from James – to a brief assignation with Isaac Pendleton the previous term. So much for Sirius’ resolution to stop throwing himself at straight boys, since Remus wasn’t apparently all that heterosexual after all. It was giving Sirius ideas, wondering about what sort of boys Moony liked and what he’d like to do with them and, well, it was hardly surprising that Sirius had found himself hostage to his own imagination under the circumstances.

‘I’m hotter than Pendleton though, aren’t I?’ Sirius asked Callie, who was keeping him company on a dreary Sunday afternoon, while Remus helped Peter with Defence and James was off canoodling with Lily. Callie mewled and clawed at Sirius’ chest appreciatively.

‘Moony only rejected me because he _thought_ he was straight back in sixth year,’ Sirius continued. ‘I reckon I owe it to him to give him another chance. Nothing to lose but a little dignity.’

He frowned, contemplating the matter as he tickled Callie’s ears absently. ‘Anyway, dignity’s over-rated, isn’t that right, Calamity?’

She didn’t answer, but she did choose that moment to pass wind with some enthusiasm, which Sirius felt conveyed her opinion on the subject pretty well.

#

‘Would you like to come to the May Gala with me?’ asked Sirius. ‘On a date. Not just as friends.’

There, that was pretty watertight. Sirius had taken some trouble to catch Remus on a quiet Tuesday afternoon as they walked back from Care of Magical Creatures, stone cold sober and with no ambiguity to his proposition. Remus might still turn him down, but he wasn’t going to wriggle out of it by pretending he didn’t know exactly what Sirius was angling for.

There was a long silence, broken eventually when Remus said, ‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’ repeated Sirius testily. ‘Is that an oh, _yes_ or an oh, NO?’

Remus shuffled, in that way that made Sirius want to slap him and snog him all at once. ‘That’s very sweet of you.’

‘Me, sweet?’ said Sirius. ‘You take that back.’

‘It’s a very kind offer,’ Remus persisted.

‘It fucking isn’t,’ said Sirius. ‘I’m not… I’m not doing you a favour or anything. I want to go with you. And I should warn you that I’ve got every intention of getting you frisky on fruit punch and trying for a snog behind the maypole.’

Remus flushed pinkly, but Sirius still wasn’t sure if he was horrified-embarrassed or excited-embarrassed.

‘Listen, Moony, if you’re not interested then tell me,’ said Sirius. ‘You don’t have to pretend I’m drunk or charitable. If you don’t find me attractive I’d rather you just said so.’

‘Don’t be daft, Padfoot, I’ve got eyes. It’s just… a bit weird,’ said Remus. ‘With us all being so close and all. I mean, you wouldn’t want to snog Prongs now, would you? Or Wormtail.’

‘I _have_ snogged Prongs!’ exclaimed Sirius.

‘And?’

‘And I’ve never questioned my sexuality more,’ said Sirius. ‘But, you know, Prongs kisses like he’s got a live eel in his mouth. I don’t know how Lily stands it.’

There was a long, awkward silence that Sirius was tempted to fill by pointing out that he’d snogged Peter a couple of times as well, and he hadn’t much enjoyed that either, but he didn’t want Remus getting any ideas that he was just trying to complete the set. There was something very unfair about the fact that the only one of his friends he really wanted to kiss was the only one he hadn’t but, well, that was sort of the point, wasn’t it? He’d never much felt like he could foist playful smooches on Remus and then write it all off as a laugh.

‘I just really like things the way they are,’ said Remus eventually.

‘OK.’ Sirius shrugged. So Remus didn’t fancy him. There wasn’t much he could do about it. He just wished Remus would stop looking at him with that vaguely pitying expression.

‘We can still go to the Gala, though,’ said Remus. ‘And Pete, I don’t think he’s got a date. I’ll even pretend not to notice when you put Salamander Powder on the bonfire.’

‘OK, but you’re going to _help_ me turn the bonfire into a giant fireball of sparkly fabulousness,’ said Sirius. ‘Least you can do after breaking my heart like that.’

Remus made a great show of rolling his eyes, but Sirius knew he’d do it.


	5. Truth Potion No. 4: August 1978

_Truth Potion No. 4: August 1978. Administered by Kaïs Amrouche, fonctionnaire at Sûreté Sorcellerie. Supplied by the Conseil National de Magie_.

Sirius arrived in Paris on an airless afternoon in late summer, with a pounding headache and strict instructions from Dumbledore. It was his first solo mission on behalf of the Order, though he hesitated to call it a mission as such. All he had to do was clear out his uncle’s vault at the French bank, d'Aulnoy’s, because of the slender possibility that some papers might perhaps be tangentially relevant to something vaguely connected to Death Eaters.

He’d have been in an out in a matter of hours, but for the curse of French bureaucracy. The Conseil National de Magie had strict rules limiting access to banking facilities for non-residents, meaning that despite being the lawful owner of his late uncle’s vault, Sirius had to live in France for a month before he could get into it.

He seemed to spend an age queuing until some bureaucrat in blue robes told him to sit down and dosed him with Veritaserum – bizarrely, by use of a nasal spray, which left Sirius with his eyes watering and trying not to sneeze.

‘Name?’ asked the man when he sat back down.

‘Sirius Black.’

‘Purpose of visit?’

‘Family business,’ said Sirius. It was true enough.

‘Have you committed any criminal acts or breaches of the Code de Sorcellerie?’

‘I’ve only been here an hour,’ said Sirius with a grin. ‘Give me a chance.’

The fonctionnaire gave him a disgruntled look, and Sirius realised for the first time that he was actually quite attractive. He also realised that the poor bloke had probably heard the same joke a hundred times from other new arrivals and Sirius really needed to raise his game if he wanted to create an impression. 

He also needed to be a lot more careful answering those sorts of questions under truth potions.

‘I haven’t committed any offences in France,’ he said sincerely. ‘I don’t plan to cause any trouble.’

He was walking a thin line, because being an unregistered Animagus wasn’t exactly legal in France either. According to his frantic, last-minute check of the law with James, the Code de Sorcellerie forbade the _practice_ of Animagics without a licence but since Sirius hadn’t been in France when he’d mastered the transformation he was probably safe so long as he didn’t actually turn into a dog during his stay.

Apparently, he was convincing enough because that ended the interrogation and Sirius was simply asked to fill out a few forms and given an appointment to call back the following morning for the first of his daily check-ins.

Outside of the slightly faded grandeur of the Maison Magique, Paris was a scruffier, livelier place than Sirius had expected. He made his way on foot to the digs Dumbledore had helped him to organise. It was a lengthy journey, especially since he kept wandering off to explore. The magical community here was more dispersed than in London, scattered and hidden and standing in plain sight in a hundred likely and unlikely locations. Sirius had been a small boy the last time he’d been in France and wasn’t sure his memories of chocolate-y crêpes and watered-down wine would be much use now.

It was technically evening, though still bright outside, when Sirius reached the boarding house in Saint Denis that was to be his home for the next month. The little room smelt damply of the canal, grease from the factories, and the neighbour’s over-boiled Bouillabaisse. It was only when he finally shook off the over-attendant landlady and stood by the window, drinking cheap red wine from the bottle as he gazed across a sea of warehouses to the Basilica that it stuck Sirius how alone he was.

He hadn’t spent this long away from James and the others in years, and he was a bit unsure what to do with himself, especially since he was supposed to be keeping out of trouble. A month in Paris ought to be a fantastic adventure, but Sirius had already started to realise that the Order was a lot less exciting than he’d hoped. In his admittedly limited experience so far it’d been long stretches of tedium interspersed by brief flashes of horror. Unbidden, his mind wandered to a failed guard duty the previous week that ended with Sirius lying helplessly in the dirt, Silenced and in a Full Body Bind as Death Eaters tore Benjy Fenwick to bits.

He’d been lucky the Aurors had turned up in time to save him, and to pick up the pieces – literally, as it turned out.

Right, well, no point dwelling on that though. Save the nightmares for bedtime. He might as well write to Prongs, let the others know he'd arrived safely. Andromeda might like a postcard. He wasn’t supposed to write to Remus directly, but maybe someone could pass on a message that Sirius had been thinking about him while Remus spent the full moon away _working._

Digging around in his pockets for a spare bit of parchment, Sirius pulled out some stuff from Dumbledore, including an envelope containing his N.E.W.T. results. Sirius opened it with a shrug, scowling faintly when he noticed he'd only scored an 'E' in Herbology. Ah, well, shouldn't have drunk so much the night before the exam.

Hogwarts suddenly seemed awfully far away. Sirius abandoned his idea of correspondence, and made for the door, setting out to find the nearest bar.

#

'Good morning, Monsieur Black.' 

Sirius made it back for his check in with Sûreté Sorcellerie, just on time and only moderately hung-over.

'Are you the same bloke I saw yesterday?' he asked, squinting in the excessively bright light. The man smiled at him.

'My name is Kaïs Amrouche. You'll report to me every day,' he said. 'Your wand, please.'

Sirius handed over his wand reluctantly as Amrouche explained something or other about security procedures before squirting Sirius with another dose of truth serum and checking he hadn't broken any laws.

'Not yet, anyway,' Sirius managed, recovering himself with a wink and earning a stamp on his papers for his troubles.

#

The next day went much the same, and the next, and the one after. Sirius entertained himself by playing the tourist by day, and downing enough wine to take the edge off his nightmares at night. Fuck's sake, he'd only been in the Order a matter of weeks and already it was getting to him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore had sent him to Paris to keep him for causing trouble back home, or to let him recuperate after what had happened with Fenwick. Sirius couldn't decide which annoyed him more.

Surprisingly, his daily visits to Sûreté Sorcellerie were becoming a highlight. The wizard who checked him in was quietly handsome and Sirius enjoyed speculating about what was going on under those blue uniform robes. Besides, seducing unsuspecting civil servants wasn't exactly illegal, was it? About time he had got to enjoy himself.

'So,' asked Sirius after his Friday morning interview. 'I was hoping to have a bit of fun this weekend. Think you might be able to help me out with that?'

There was something about the way Amrouche indulged his quips that made Sirius think he might be interested, but you could never be sure. If he wasn't, too blatant a come-on might backfire messily. Amrouche smiled at him, though, and wrote down directions to a place near Sirius’ boarding house.

Sirius thanked him with a wink and walked away whistling. He'd either scored himself a date or been given directions to the nearest brothel. Either one had to be better than another silent evening with a bottle of wine and his own thoughts.

#

'I was starting to think I'd be drinking alone,' said Sirius as Amrouche arrived in the bar sometime after nine. It was a peculiar place, staffed by dwarves and largely underground, hidden behind a Muggle police station. 'What can I get you, Monsieur Amrouche?'

'Kaïs, please,' the man said, dropping down into a seat. 'Didn't think you'd be so eager. I'll have what you're having.'

Sirius ordered another bottle of the house red and turned on the charm. Kaïs turned out to be very easy to talk to, though Sirius was surprised he insisted on carrying on the conversation in English. 'I was made to learn French as a child, you know.'

'As a child, yes,' said Kaïs mildly. 'I think we may understand each other better in English.'

True, Sirius hadn't had a lesson in years so he was out of practice, but none of the shopkeepers, barmaids, and tourist trap attendants he'd spoken to since he arrived had complained about his language skills and Sirius said so.

'Well, many English visitors don't make the effort, we wouldn't want to discourage those that do,' said Kaïs. He paused for a moment and then smiled. 'And you are very beautiful.'

Sirius blinked back at him. 'Are you telling me that everyone I've met since I arrived here has just been indulging me,' he asked, 'because they think I'm cute?'

Kaïs laughed good-naturedly. 'If one must be patronised by a city, it should at least be Paris.'

They spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing, and Sirius started to feel relaxed and comfortable. It was a nice feeling; he'd missed it. They were eventually thrown out past closing time by a very grumpy dwarf, and Sirius insisted he was in no condition to walk home alone in a strange city.

'You know, I don't have to check in at weekends,' said Sirius as they said goodbye beside the steps to his front door. 'I could get up all sorts of wickedness without someone to keep an eye on me.'

'I'm afraid the Conseil don't pay me overtime,' said Kaïs. 'So if I see you tomorrow, I won't have any incentive to stop you being wicked.'

'Ooh, I like that,' said Sirius, tangling his hands in the front of Kaïs's shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

Kaïs returned the kiss soft and slow, with a little hesitation and a lot of wine-soaked tenderness. 'I'll pick you up at 8,' he said, before turning away and Disapparating, leaving Sirius breathless and giddy from more than just wine.

#

What Sirius had planned as an easy distraction soon became a fascination as he seized every opportunity to spend time with Kaïs. The other man was attractive, funny, and interesting. Sirius liked how Kaïs gave every impression of being captivated by him too, but still managed to stand up to Sirius enough to tease him and even argue back at times.

Sirius was receiving increasingly mocking replies to his letters to James, full of suggested poetry and references to torrid love affairs and whirlwind romances, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It _was_ romantic, and Sirius saw no reason not to make the most of it.

'Why are you really here?' asked Kaïs as Sirius crawled out from under a sofa the following weekend.

'You asked me to come around and help with your doxy infestation,' said Sirius. 'I seem to recall some mention of a reward.'

They were in the apartment Kaïs shared with his family, not far from Sirius' temporary home. It was an old building in poor condition, but the apartment where Kaïs lived with his grandmother, brother, brother’s wife and their children had a kind of chaotic charm, and smelt invitingly of cumin-spiced lamb and clean laundry.

'You're doing an excellent job,' said Kaïs. 'I've particularly enjoyed the view as you climbed over and under the furniture. I was really asking what you were doing for Dumbledore.'

Sirius stopped still. 'Dumbledore?' he said with false lightness. 'I've left Hogwarts. The Headmaster doesn’t tell me what to do anymore.'

'I wasn't talking about schoolwork.' Kaïs set down the bottle of doxy spray and walked across the room to stand directly in front of Sirius. 'I meant, what are you doing for the Order of the Phoenix?'

Sirius didn't answer at once, his hand curling reflexively around his wand. _Shit, shit, shit._ How thick was he, he'd only known Kaïs five minutes and he'd gone happily waltzing into his home without having made any efforts to check him out. There weren't any Death Eaters in France as far as anyone knew, but they could have allies, and for all Sirius knew Kaïs was one of them. Sirius could've kicked himself; trust him to get sent away for his own safety and wind up falling in - getting a stupid crush on the enemy.

He could run away, but that would put the mockers on his mission to collect Alphard's papers. Best just to brazen it out, and no need to dwell on why he was so reluctant to run out on Kaïs anyway.

'Order of the what?'

Kaïs lips twitched. 'It's a good job I didn't try to tackle you at work,' he said. ‘You’re not a very good liar even without a truth serum.'

Sirius tightened his grip on his wand. 'What do you want from me?'

'Nothing, I'm not...' Kaïs held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Let me explain.'

'OK,' agreed Sirius. 'Leave your wand out on the table. Make it good.'

Kaïs looked faintly exasperated at the suggestion, but did as Sirius asked before going to sit on the sofa. 'There's no need to be so defensive. The Order of the Phoenix isn't illegal, at least not in France, and you must’ve noticed that Dumbledore is popular here.'

Sirius had been reading the local papers, and noticed that they didn't think much of the Ministry, with columnists at Le Héraut regularly expressing bafflement that Dumbledore wasn't Minister. He knew better than to set much store by it; the Prophet changed loyalties like a snitch changes direction, and he doubted the French press was much better.

'Perhaps,' he agreed. 'What's Sûreté Sorcellerie's interest in Dumbledore?'

'None,' said Kaïs. 'At least, none that I know of. My interest is a little more personal.'

Sirius eyed him warily and nodded to continue.

'When I was a child my mother was sick a lot. One of our neighbours, a Czechoslovakian woman, used to mind me and my brothers. She was kind and talkative, and she’d lived a life full of adventures. We loved her hear stories about her travels across Europe. The best one was about seeing Dumbledore defeat Grindelwald.'

'She saw that?' asked Sirius, suspicion temporarily forgotten. 'Wow. That's pretty cool.'

'It is,' said Kaïs, leaning towards Sirius. 'You could say it sparked my interest in international maquisards.'

'Is that so?'

'Definitely,' confirmed Kaïs. 'You know, my life is very boring. I am a lowly fonctionnaire - I ask the same questions to different people a hundred times a day, and get the same answers. I go home, sometimes I watch my brother's children. I might read to my grandmother for a while. Maybe I will go for a walk or listen to the wireless. It’s not every day I run into a sexy foreign freedom fighter.'

‘Is that how you see me?’ said Sirius, smiling. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t like the idea.

‘Naturally,’ said Kaïs. ‘If your work is secret, then of course, I won’t push it. You can hardly blame me for being curious, though – you’re the most exciting person I’ve met in a long time.’

'Well, if you’ve decided I’m some kind of international man of mystery, I’m not about to complain. Although it doesn’t explain why you chose to invite me round to help clear up your doxy infestation,' said Sirius. 'You might want to work on your seduction technique.'

'Got you here, didn't it?' said Kaïs with a mischievous grin. 'And, you know, my sister-in-law won't be back with the kids for hours...'

'That is good to know,' agreed Sirius. He moved towards Kaïs, swinging his leg over until he was straddling the other man's lap and leant in to murmur into his neck. 'Although I should probably admit, I'm not here for the doxies.'

'Good,' said Kaïs as he wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist, pulling him closer. 'I haven't actually got any.'

#

Sirius arrived at the Maison Magique bright and early, looking forward to greeting Kaïs with a spot of early morning flirtation. The line was delayed, though, as Kaïs was engaged in a fractious discussion with another wizard. A wizard who looked awfully familiar...

'Reg?'

Regulus Black spun around, the contempt on his face also familiar. It didn't completely disguise the fact that he was somewhat alarmed to see Sirius.

'I'm busy,' he said, and turned back to continue his argument with Kaïs. 

'Monsieur Black, I have explained, the Conseil does not permit entry by unaccompanied minors,' said Kaïs, quite possibly not for the first time.

'I'm seventeen!' exclaimed Regulus indignantly. 'I'm of age.'

'In Britain, perhaps,' said Kaïs patiently. 'The law in France is different. Unless you are supervised by a responsible adult, you must return to London immediately.'

'I'll take care of him,' Sirius offered. 'I'm his brother.'

'You're not my brother!' spat Regulus indignantly. Merlin's whiskers but he could be a little brat sometimes.

'Keep it down, Reg, everyone doesn't want to hear all our family dramas,' said Sirius, rubbing his face tiredly. Before Regulus could answer Sirius grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him away to a quiet corner near a marble statue of dancing wood nymphs. 'Now, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?'

‘No.’ Regulus jutted his chin out stubbornly.

'Well, look, you might as well,' said Sirius. 'They'll not let you stay unless you come with me.'

He was sort of pleased, actually, to see Regulus, despite the immense irritation his brother always managed to inspire in him. It had been so hard to find a way to talk to him, for years now, perhaps being away from Hogwarts and the family home would give them the chance to have something approaching a civil discussion.

'I'd best be getting back to London then,' said Regulus, turning on his heel.

'No, Reg, wait,' said Sirius, hurrying after him. 'You haven't told me why you're here. Shouldn't you be at school?'

'It's August,' said Regulus coldly.

Well, yeah, it was a bit till term time, but Sirius was fairly certain their parents wouldn't have sanctioned any solo foreign holidays right before Regulus was supposed to be heading back to Hogwarts. They were back at the International Floo point already though, and Regulus strode right past an elderly witch who was digging through an enormous dragon skin handbag.

'You could at least talk to me!' said Sirius, hackles rising.

Regulus barely spared him a glance as he stepped into the fireplace. 'Goodbye, Sirius,' he said, before throwing a handful of Floo Powder down. 'Londres.'

Sirius could only watch as his brother disappeared in a swirl of green flames. 

#

There were no more surprises after that, just long boring afternoons spent writing insulting letters to James, evenings in pretty bistros and dive-y bars, and hot nights wrapped around Kaïs, kissing, talking, and fucking the darkness away. It all felt a little unreal, curiously detached from the world of the Order and fighting back home, and Sirius found himself surprised at just how comfortable he found the quiet little bubble.

Of course, the company certainly helped. Sirius wondered, at times, if he'd have fallen so hard for Kaïs if he hadn't known their connection could only be temporary, but when Kaïs listened to Sirius' grumbling for days after Regulus disappeared with unfailing patience, or made him snort with laughter with dirty jokes about the water sprites that lived in the rivers around Beauxbatons, or pushed Sirius into the mattress, licking the sweat from his collarbone and making Sirius squirm with desire, the reasons for it didn't seem to matter much at all.

The final day of Sirius' one-month residency came quickly, early September still hot and languid, but time to move on nonetheless. Sirius accepted the final stamp on his papers from Kaïs with a small, regretful smile. He would collect Alphard's belongings from d'Aulnoy’s that afternoon, then stick around for one last night with Kaïs, before reporting back to Dumbledore the following morning.

He was alert, watchful, as he made his way to d'Aulnoy’s, an ancient building unseen by Muggles behind the basilica. Unlike Gringott's, there was no obvious street entrance, just a hatch in an oak tree leading to a chute. Sirius glanced about, but there were only a few Muggles nearby and none of them seemed to be paying much attention, so he grabbed his wand tight and slide in.

Inside, d'Aulnoy’s was more modern than he'd expected, all Belle Époque glamour and fabulous chandeliers. He was early, as customers wanting access to the high security vaults without an appointment were usually asked to wait until midday, but Sirius had a lot of paperwork to get through and very little patience. He managed to sweet-talk the witch at reception, two goblins, and an old codger who must have at least one troll grandparent into moving him from desk to desk, checking his papers, his story, his wand.

Eventually, Sirius was presented with an ornate key and directed to a compartment which looked like a luxurious version of the capsules on a Ferris wheel, with velvet seating and excellent steering. A pale melancholic goblin named Ursule guided Sirius to the vault, which was actually just a small locked cupboard. Inside Sirius found several rolls of parchment, a box of jewellery, a few books - all on the Dark Arts, ugh - and some sort of magical device that Sirius couldn't decipher right away, but looked a bit like a compass. He stowed them all away in the bag he'd brought to carry everything back to Dumbledore, along with some random detritus from the back of the vault: crumbling photographs, a stamp bearing the Black Family Crest and, bizarrely, an antique teacup.

It was sad, really, that none of it actually meant anything to Sirius. Uncle Alphard had been nice to him at Christmas parties and other functions, but Sirius hadn't really known him well. The gold he'd inherited from Alphard had been enough of a surprise, though Sirius had wondered if it had been meant mostly as a "fuck you" to Walburga - something Sirius would've completely understood. It was hard to get sentimental about gold, but the stuff in his d'Aulnoy’s vault may well have held more importance to Alphard. Sirius regretted that he couldn't see why.

Well, he wasn't there for nostalgia. Maybe Dumbledore would be able to make some sense out of it.

Sirius was still pondering the matter when Ursule let him out of the gilded compartment and back into d'Aulnoy’s main entrance hall. It was getting busier now, customers who actually did as they were asked arriving to get into their vaults. Sirius thanked Ursule for her assistance, assuring her that he found the facilities at d'Aulnoy’s vastly superior to Gringott’s. Ursule sighed and said she could see through blatant flattery, but didn't actually seem to mind too much.

He was across the hall, one hand on the railings to the stairs outside when Sirius turned and caught sight of Lucius Malfoy dripping gold into some other goblin's outstretched hand.

Well, great. This trip was turning into quite the family reunion.

Sirius didn't stop to see what was happening, just dashed for the exit, taking the stairs two at a time, but Malfoy must've had help because he was already waiting at the top by the time Sirius arrived.

'I'll take that,' said Malfoy, hand outstretched. So, whatever it was Alphard had stashed away really was worth something.

'Take what?' asked Sirius, playing for time as he glanced over Malfoy's shoulder and up and down the nearby path. He couldn't make out who any of the cloaked figures lurking in nearby bushes might be, but it was clear whose side they were on.

Malfoy took a step closer. 'Just hand over the goods, Sirius. No need to make this any more difficult than it needs to be.'

Sirius took a long look at Malfoy's nasty, superior face and let out a sharp bark of laughter. 'When have you ever known me to make things easy?'

Malfoy presumably had some typically sneering reply but Sirius didn't wait around to hear it. Instead he just turned as quickly as he could, and Disapparated. Malfoy or one of his stooges must have hit him with some sort of Cutting Hex, because when Sirius landed in a stationery cupboard at Maison Magique his arm was bleeding heavily.

Stopping the bleeding wasn't too hard, though his arm still throbbed painfully. The real difficulty Sirius faced was making sure he got away before Malfoy and his pals caught up with him. Going back to the boarding house was out of the question - luckily he'd not left anything there that couldn't be replaced - and, more worryingly, he wasn't sure he could risk strolling back into the International Floo point. The Death Eaters were sure to look for him there and even if he could get past them, Dumbledore had specifically told Sirius to keep his head down - he wasn't going to be best pleased if Sirius sparked off an international incident.

Fortune was smiling on him for once though, as Sirius poked his head out the cupboard door and stopped Kaïs only moments later.

'Couldn't wait until I finished work, huh?' asked Kaïs as he crammed in beside Sirius, between shelves of quills, ink, parchment and sealing wax. He leant into Sirius, pressing soft kisses to his jaw. 'This is very naughty, you know. But it's more fun than filing.'

'That's, ah, tempting,' said Sirius, gasping as Kaïs bit down on his earlobe. 'But I'm afraid I have more, uh, urgent matters to attend to.'

Kaïs drew back, the concerned expression on his face discernible even in the dim light of the stationery cupboard. 'Something wrong?'

'Yeah, I didn't just drop by for a quickie,' said Sirius. 'They were outside d'Aulnoy’s. Death Eaters. They're after me.'

'Damn.' Kaïs let out a low breath. 'Is it very bad that I want to fuck you even more now?'

Sirius grinned and pulled him in for a deep, fast kiss. 'Never,' he said. 'But I have to go. Can you help me get back to London? I daren't go back through the Floo and it's too far to Apparate. I thought maybe a Portkey?'

Kaïs hesitated, biting his lip. Helping Sirius probably wouldn’t put him in any real danger, but it could risk his job.

‘Sorry,’ said Sirius. ‘I’m afraid this is the less romantic side to being a resistance fighter. Sometimes it’s glamorous heroics, sometimes it’s being glad to escape with a flesh wound and trying to sweet-talk a gorgeous guy into sneaking you out of the back door.’

Kaïs laughed softly. ‘Lucky you’re so good at the sweet talk,’ he said, pressing another quick kiss to Sirius’ mouth. ‘I think I can help.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sirius. ‘Just show me the way and I’ll be out of your hair.’

‘That’s not much of an incentive, you know,’ said Kaïs, with a regretful smile. ‘But I did say I wanted some excitement.’

It wasn’t just an adrenaline rush, though, Sirius was sure of that. He and Kaïs might live very different lives, but Sirius recognised that they shared a longing for a grand, romantic passion, however doomed or quixotic it may be.

Kaïs cast a Disillusionment Charm over Sirius and led him out through the corridors of the Maison Magique. Unlike the grand public areas, the staff areas were dark and in places damp, a labyrinthine mass of corridors that Sirius doubted he'd ever have found his way through alone.

'Here,' said Kaïs eventually. They'd arrived in what looked like some sort of canal tunnel, the cold grey water of the Seine flowing only a few feet away. It was a gloomy, lonesome spot.

'What's here?' asked Sirius, glancing about.

Kaïs pointed upwards. 'The Portkey Office is upstairs. Heads of magical government can't be expected to travel by common Floo, so there’s a bank of Portkeys ready to transport them to and from other government offices. There will be a Portkey primed to go to your Minister of Magic in - ' he stopped to consult his watch ' - ten minutes.'

Sirius kissed him again. 'You're brilliant,' he said. 'How do we get to it?'

'The Portkey room is locked room, but unstaffed. You can just blast a hole through this ceiling and then Summon one.'

' _Reducto!_ ' yelled Sirius, pointing his wand upwards. The ceiling overhead splintered, showering them with dust and chunks of masonry. There was some sort of a room just visible through the hole blasted by the Curse. ' _Accio_ London Portkey!'

Sirius held out his hands and deftly caught the large, ornamental paperweight that flew down through the gap in the ceiling.

'So is this going to whisk me into Harold Minchum's office?'

'Maybe a waiting room,' said Kaïs. 'Best be ready to Apparate away when you land.'

Sirius nodded, suddenly aware that it was time to say goodbye for good. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I might not have been able finish my work without you.'

Kaïs smiled back at him fondly. 'Very underhanded, Dumbledore's battle tactics,' he said. 'Sending beautiful young wizards to steal the hearts of innocent public servants.'

Sirius couldn't quite answer with words, so he simply pressed his lips against Kaïs's in a long, gentle kiss, eventually releasing him with a regretful sigh. 'You know, when I came here, I expected to be bored. I didn't expect to fall in love.'

'I'm glad to have been a pleasant surprise,' said Kaïs. ‘I’m glad I got to know you. To love you.'

Sirius stepped back. The Portkey was nearly ready. 'Maybe I'll see you again someday?'

'I hope so,' said Kaïs. 'Survive. Win your war. Come back for a holiday.'

Sirius grinned and blew him a kiss. The Portkey glowed, shook, and pulled him away.

#

He was back in Dumbledore's office under an hour later, handing over his haul and giving a passable report on his time in Paris. (Minus one or two highlights.) Dumbledore listened patiently, tapping his fingertips together, and making those "pray continue" and "mm-hm" sounds that made Sirius feel itchy under his skin.

'Did you see anyone else while you were in Paris?' asked Dumbledore.

Sirius refrained from swearing under his breath with some force of effort. He hadn't mentioned Regulus; it was quite obvious that Dumbledore knew he'd been there anyway.

'Regulus, briefly,' he admitted. 'We didn't talk.'

Dumbledore gave him a knowing look and Sirius felt like screaming. He knew very well what Dumbledore was implying because he'd heard it all before. And because Sirius was tired, and fed up, and maybe just a bit heartbroken he couldn't be doing with it and simply cut to the chase.

'My brother is not a Death Eater.'

Dumbledore regarded him with something that looked very much like pity.

'What?' demanded Sirius.

'I have something to show you,' said Dumbledore, rising slowly from behind his desk. He gestured to another table behind Sirius, which held an old stone basin covered in runes.

'You want to show me a memory?' asked Sirius.

'It's not one of mine,' said Dumbledore as he uncorked a tiny bottle and poured shimmering silver liquid into the pensieve. 'A kind donation for the purpose of information sharing.'

There was something in Dumbledore's tone that made Sirius think he'd acquired the memory specifically for him. He also thought that, whatever it was, he wasn't going to like it. He would have preferred to be allowed to view it alone, but Dumbledore already had a quiet hand on his arm and there was no way to shake it off without being openly rude. Sirius dipped his head into the basin, and fell into the memory.

It was a park full of picnicking Muggles and people playing with Frisbees. There was something about the trees, the distant sound of music, that seemed familiar. It was only as they rounded a corner, coming out by a duck pond and there were people running, shouting, that Sirius remembered.

There'd been a Muggle-baiting attack in the park at the start of summer. Not one of the worst - no-one had been killed, but there had been injuries and the MLE had been kept busy for hours dishing out Memory Charms to frightened Muggles. Sirius had been called in along with James, Remus, and Peter once the worst of it was over, helping to round up injured Muggles and checking for lingering Death Eaters.

Now, though, was earlier in the day and Dumbledore led him past the main action and into a small coppice. There, standing beneath a tree were two people in black robes with Death Eater masks pushed back off their faces. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.

He'd recognise Bellatrix and Regulus’ voices even if their faces weren’t visible.

'Go ahead,' said Bellatrix with as much warmth as she ever managed.

Regulus beamed at her, happy and proud, and Sirius wanted to shake him. But it was only a memory, so Sirius couldn't do a thing but stand and watch as Regulus pointed his wand aloft.

' _Morsmordre_!' cried Regulus, sending the Dark Mark exploding into the sky.

Sirius was still staring, slack-jawed in horror when Dumbledore caught his arm and tugged, pulling them both out of the memory and back into the Headmaster’s office. Sirius grabbed hold of the table as he doubled up, breathing heavily, only distantly aware of the muttered gossip coming from the previous Head teachers' portraits. He thought he might throw up.

'I am very sorry, Sirius,' said Dumbledore, and the worst part was he sounded like he meant it.

Sirius hated him for it.

'You understand why I had to show you that,' the Headmaster continued.

Sirius nodded numbly. He did understand, more's the pity. If Regulus hadn't gone off in a strop after running into him at Sûreté Sorcellerie, Sirius probably would've let him tag along in Paris, and might even have allowed Regulus to go with him to collect Alphard's belongings from d'Aulnoy’s. It was only Regulus' innate brattiness that stopped Sirius seriously comprising his work for the Order, and that wasn’t all. If Sirius had gone home to find Regulus waiting on his doorstep, he wouldn't have questioned him. His refusal to see Regulus for what he was made Sirius a liability for the Order.

It was pathetic, Sirius reflected bitterly, how much he might have done just to make his little brother love him again.

'Well, I wouldn't listen,' Sirius said sullenly. 'Looks like you proved me wrong.'

'It gives me no pleasure,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'However, I must ask that should Regulus make any effort to contact you, you inform me immediately.

He could scarcely refuse, so Sirius just nodded. 'If you don't mind, it's been a long day,' he said. 'I'd like to go home.'

'Certainly,' said Dumbledore. He leant over and picked some a tin off his desk, brightening as he presented it to Sirius. 'Barley twist?'

Sirius was really very proud of the way he didn't tell Dumbledore to stick his fucking sweets up his arse.

#

 _Prongs_ , thought Sirius as he strode through the tunnel into Hogsmeade. He needed a drink, and some normality, and mostly he needed James.

Since James hadn't done anything indecent like getting a job, Sirius was confident of finding him at home in the middle of the afternoon, and up for a trip to the pub. Sure enough, James was in his parents' kitchen, dicing vast piles of onions in between peeking through the window at Lily, who was gathering potions ingredients in Fleamont's lean-to greenhouse.

'Padfoot!' James greeted him with a crushing bear-hug, overflowing with his customary enthusiasm. 'Managed to tear yourself away from sexy French boys to come back and talk to your friends at last.'

'Oh, you know me, Prongs,' said Sirius, helping himself to a handful of aloo bhujia as he leant back against the counter. 'Treat them mean, keep them keen.'

'Ha!' scoffed James. 'You couldn’t pull that off if your life depended on it, you great sap.'

Sirius shot him a grin. Really, he was feeling better already. 'I'm a big sap?'

'Fair play, I might have you beat,' said James. He was positively bouncing.

'What have you done?' asked Sirius, stifling his smile and trying very hard to sound disapproving. It was a poor effort.

'I asked Lily to marry me!' exclaimed James, just as the lady herself arrived through the back door.

Sirius turned to address Lily directly. 'Lily, love, please tell me you turned this blighter down?'

'Sorry, Sirius, you should've known better than to leave us for more than five minutes,' she said, eyes sparkling. 'You know we can't be trusted on our own.'

She was pretty bouncy too, as she let Sirius pull her into a hug and twirl her around the kitchen. 

'I'm so disappointed, what happened to keeping his ego in check?' he said when he set her down. 'I hope you at least made him cry.'

'Oi!'

'Like you wouldn't believe,' said Lily with a conspiratorial grin. 'I had to Charm his glasses afterwards.'

James made all sort of indignant noises, but Sirius just laughed and punched his arm.

'So, the wedding won't be for a while yet,' said James. He caught Sirius’ eye, with that same intense sincerity he'd had the night Sirius left home. 'But... you'll be my best man, yeah?'

Sirius let out a strange gasping noise that he'd deny to his grave.

'Clue's in the name, mate,' he said, pulling James into a fierce hug. And if his own eyes were a bit damp after that, well, everyone knew better than to mention it.

#

The wedding came nearly a year later, after many more months of Death Eater-inspired misery, tedium, and terror. Sirius clung to the thought of it throughout the pandemonium, almost sad when the day arrived because it seemed like the only thing they had to look forward to.

‘You bringing Marcus tonight?’ asked Peter, as he and Remus helped Sirius Charm a seemingly endless number of flower arrangements in the Church Hall.

Marcus Ross was Sirius’ current… well, “boyfriend” seemed too strong a word. Convenient shag, perhaps.

‘Nah, we’re not really at that stage,’ said Sirius. ‘Besides, Prongs can’t be doing with him.’

‘I’m sure he’d be alright,’ said Remus. ‘For your sake.’

‘Well, maybe,’ said Sirius, in between Charming vases of Cringing Chrysanthemums to stop them sneezing. ‘The fact that he only ever calls him “Dickhead” makes his feelings pretty clear.’

‘No offence, Padfoot, but Marcus _is_ a pretty stupid name,’ said Peter.

Sirius shrugged, but Remus suggested that was actually his parents’ fault.

‘Perhaps, but he doesn’t have to use his full name,’ said Peter. ‘He could just go by Mark, which is a perfectly normal name, instead of calling himself Marcus, like a dick.’

Remus paused, levitating a large swag of roses over the top table. He shot Sirius a mischievous glance. ‘You got something against people whose names end in “-us”, Pete?’

Peter flushed but stood his ground. ‘Only dickish ones.’

Sirius supposed he should be standing up for his bloke, but well. They had a point.

# 

The wedding was fiercely joyful, awash with the kind of defiant optimism that Lily and James inspired. Sirius was happy fit to burst for them, of course, but there was a tiny bit of envy beneath it. He’d never quite let go of his yearning for that sort of transformative love that Lily and James shared, like Andromeda had with Ted. Love that didn’t just make your heart sing, it made you stronger, better.

Well, maybe it wasn’t for everyone. At least Sirius got close enough to soak up some of that joy by proxy.

He made a speech that, contrary to expectations, was low on bawdy humour and high on sentiment, feeling quite pleased with himself when he noted Professor McGonagall reaching for a handkerchief to discretely dab at her eyes. Sirius danced with her after, and with Peter, his date, and both Lily and James (together and separately). Euphemia all but squished the air out of him, her bracelets digging into his back as she squeezed him tight and told him how proud she was of both her boys, and Sirius was just ducking outside before he lost all emotional control when Remus caught him.

‘Do I get to dance with the best man, Padfoot?’

‘Of course.’ Sirius put his hand on Remus’ shoulder and they shuffled towards the dancefloor. The hired band was playing an accordion piece badly, but no-one seemed to mind. ‘What happened to your date?’

‘Tamara went off with Marlene and Dorcas,’ said Remus. ‘She’s helping Charm Lily’s bouquet to explode when she throws it.’

‘Impressive,’ said Sirius. ‘You should probably marry her.’

It was only a silly joke – Remus wasn’t even properly going out with Tamara – but somehow Sirius’ chest felt unaccountably tight.

‘I might hang off proposing for a week or two,’ said Remus. ‘What about you? All this romance in the air, you don’t regret coming alone?’

‘Nah,’ said Sirius. ‘My friends hate my boyfriend.’

Remus stopped dancing and frowned. ‘It’s not so much that we hate him, Padfoot,’ he said. ‘More that we love you.’

Sirius nodded tightly. It was all getting a bit much. ‘I know,’ he mumbled because he got it, he really did.

‘I’ll spare you the pep talk about deserving better,’ said Remus, hugging him. ‘But you do.’

Sirius ought to have a glib remark, or a lewd one, or something, but just for a moment he was lost. Then came a rush to the front of the room to watch Lily toss her bouquet and, sure enough, it exploded, showering the crowd with glitter, petals, and some small fire balls. Sirius laughed, delighted, and thought maybe he’d be OK as he dashed off to help Fleamont put out the blazing wedding cake.

#

A week later Lily and James were still on honeymoon when Sirius split up with Marcus, during a row about him being horrid to Callie and Sirius not putting out that was really just an excuse to get rid. Sirius had only been with him because he knew he wouldn’t get attached, but he still felt empty and miserable when it was over.

Order work aside, he spent the following days alone, reading gossip pieces from the Prophet out loud to Callie, who seemed increasingly unimpressed with his antics.

‘Everyone’s a critic,’ muttered Sirius, as Callie responded to his dramatic rendition of an article about Celestina Warbeck and a junior undersecretary by turning around and pointedly washing her bottom. He’d probably have carried on regardless though if Remus hadn’t popped through the Floo.

‘Did Prongs ask you to check up on me?’ asked Sirius as he set the kettle on to boil.

‘Naturally,’ said Remus. ‘Being as how I’m only a passing acquaintance and wholly indifferent as to whether you live or die.'

‘Git,’ muttered Sirius. He made tea, even scrounging up a few biscuits, and before long he was spilling freely.

‘So I split up with Dickhead,’ said Sirius. ‘Try not to cheer.’

Remus set down his tea and settled beside Sirius on the couch. ‘I’m not glad if you’re unhappy, Padfoot. What happened?’

‘He was rude about Callie,’ said Sirius, not caring if it sounded like a silly reason. 

‘Was that it?’ asked Remus. Of course, Remus was rude about Callie all the time but that was different.

Sirius shrugged, turning his mug around on the table. ‘It wasn’t a proper relationship, just sex, really,’ he said. ‘So when I wasn’t in the mood… he wasn’t happy.’

Remus was quiet for a long time before asking in a low voice, ‘Sirius, did Marcus ever… did he… he didn’t try to _force you_ did he?’

‘What? Oh, no, nothing like – ’ Sirius trailed off as Remus’ fingers skirted his wrist, tracing the bruises left from a run-in with Death Eaters outside York two days previously. ‘That wasn’t him.’

Remus was still looking at him, eyes full of concern, like the prospect of anyone hurting Sirius was almost physically painful for him.

‘It’s OK, he didn’t hurt me,’ said Sirius. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Moony.’

‘So why are you in such a state?’

Sirius glanced away, embarrassed. ‘You’re being really nice to me,’ he managed, throat so tight the words were hard come by.

‘Oh, Padfoot.’ Remus reached out to him, pulling Sirius into a hug.

Sirius let himself go, falling into the tender warmth of Remus’ arms. Moony was kind and so _good_ , comfortingly familiar and achingly out of reach all at once. He was wearing an atrocious mustard-yellow jumper that felt scratchy against Sirius’ cheek and he must’ve cleaned his boots before he came out, because he smelt like shoe polish. Sirius wouldn’t have minded staying wrapped up in him forever.

‘I wish I knew what’s wrong,’ said Remus said as he ran his fingers through Sirius’ hair. ‘I wish I could help.’

Sirius shrugged, burrowing a little deeper into Remus’ embrace. He was helping. And as for what was wrong… well, that was becoming scarily apparent, as ragged, scattered thoughts swam together. It was dangerous territory: the ever-present longing, _I wish someone loved me_ , strengthening into _I wish someone like Moony loved me_ , which soon became the terrifying _I wish Moony loved me_ , and if Sirius didn’t pull himself together soon he’d fall right into the positively catastrophic _I want Moony to love me like I love him._

He didn’t say anything though. Instead he rested, as close to contentment as he could manage, in the safe circle of Remus’ arms until the appalling cuckoo clock Peter had given him for Christmas went off, and both Remus and Sirius agreed Pete owed them a pint for that and it was high time they hit the pub.


	6. Truth Potion No. 5: October 1981

_Truth Potion No. 5: October 1981. Forcibly administered by Remus Lupin. Supplier unknown (stolen from the Ministry of Magic)_.

Lately, it seemed like the Death Eaters were winning. Harry was top of Voldemort’s hit list, there was a spy in the Order, and Sirius was falling apart. There had been so many fights and near misses they were starting to blur; he was almost nostalgic for the days when Benjy Fenwick’s murder haunted his dreams; now the victims had become innumerable and undistinguished.

‘I just think,’ said Peter, anxious, looking down. ‘You need to look at the facts. Objectively.’

‘Is that so?’ answered Sirius curtly.

He knew very well what the facts were. How many times Remus had been caught lying to him, to all of them. Who’d seen him where. The startling number of coincidences, and they’ve all heard what Moody says about coincidence. The lack of alternative explanations.

‘Padfoot, please.’ There was a desperate note to Peter’s voice, his eyes weak and watery as he looked at Sirius. ‘We’re all relying on you; you can’t… let emotion get in the way of your judgement.’

‘And why would I do that?’ Sirius’ voice remained cold.

Peter gave another nervous twitch, shivering in the toast-crumbed mess of Sirius’ kitchen.

‘Moony,’ he said at last, and Sirius flinched. ‘He knows how you feel about him. He knows and he’s using it to manipulate you. But you can’t let him, Sirius, Lily and James they’re count – ’

‘HOW DARE YOU!’ roared Sirius, incandescent. He lunged at Peter, who yelled and ducked back and transformed, running out of the kitchen. Sirius chased after him, yelling at the top of his lungs and going through the flat like a hurricane until eventually he caught up with Wormtail, cowering behind Callie on the dressing table in the spare room.

‘Change back,’ muttered Sirius, the worst of his anger vented. He was shaking.

Peter returned to human form, looking pale and anxious. ‘I know you don’t want to believe it,’ he said, barely audible as he stumbled over the words. ‘You didn’t want to believe it about Regulus either.’

The painful reminder nearly set Sirius off again, but it _was_ true. He could be so _blind_ about the people he cared for.

‘State of you, Wormtail,’ said Sirius, like it was joke, albeit a cruel one. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Honestly, if you’re like this with me, what would you be like if Voldemort ever got hold of you?’

Peter, to his credit, managed a shaky laugh. ‘I’m more frightened of you than I am of Voldemort.’

Sirius snorted, but it occurred to him that Peter had never stood up to him before, not really. It was pretty brave, Sirius was forced to grudgingly admit, for Peter to take on the full force of Sirius’ anger. If Peter was challenging him now, for the first time ever, maybe Sirius should sit up and pay attention.

‘Look, I’ll talk to Lily and Prongs, OK?’ he said. It was as close to an apology as he could manage.

Peter seemed pleased. ‘I know you’ll do the right thing.’

Well, Sirius was glad someone thought so.

#

It was Lily he talked to, mainly, shelling peas at the kitchen table in Godric’s Hollow. It was lovely, their house, always smelling of tea and fresh flowers. James was upstairs reading a story to Harry as they talked in hushed whispers.

‘He won’t have any of it, you know,’ she said. ‘It’s a matter of principle for him.’

‘But it’s not about principles, is it? It’s about practicalities.’ Sirius wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but Lily nodded.

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Trying to work out who _would_ betray us is pointless. The spy can only be someone we trust, someone none of us would believe could be a Death Eater. We’ll drive ourselves crazy trying to think of it that way. But maybe a more pragmatic approach…’

‘Focus on who _could_ do it?’ Sirius finished for her. It was hard to imagine anyone who’d be a more competent spy than Moony, not that Sirius much liked the idea. ‘I take it James doesn't agree?’

Lily smiled sadly.

‘He’s lucky, in a way. He never had to face up to the fact that the Death Eaters might include someone he cares about.’

‘No,’ said Sirius in a small voice, thinking about Regulus. Definitely a Death Eater, rumoured dead, long lost either way.

‘James chose his friends well,’ Lily went on reaching out and taking Sirius’ hand across the table. ‘I love how he sees the best in them. I don’t want him to be forced to see the worst.’

It took Sirius a moment to catch up. Of course, her best friend had been Snape. It seemed so long ago now. Was he working for Voldemort? It wouldn’t be a surprise. Knowing that another friend’s turned against her must be horrible.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That stuff with you and Snape at school. I was kind of a dick about it.’

‘Yeah, well, you are kind of a dick,’ said Lily. ‘But we love you anyway.’

Sirius rocked forward on his elbows towards her. ‘I’ve got to face up to some stuff,’ he said. ‘But I won’t let you down. I won’t let anyone hurt you, or Harry or James. I’d rather die.’

Lily pressed her finger to his lips. ‘How about don’t die,’ she said. ‘Your godson’s sure to develop some bad habits – we’ll need someone to blame them on.’

‘Quite right,’ said James, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘You’d best listen to my wife, Padfoot. She’ll be bloody furious if you go getting yourself killed.’

Sirius smiled weakly as James crossed the kitchen, wrapping an arm around his and Lily’s shoulders.

‘And both of you, stop worrying,’ he said. ‘I know it’s scary, but we’ve all got to stick together. It’s the only way.’

Sirius caught Lily’s eye as she nodded, and didn’t disagree. James was just so _good_ , he wasn’t capable of thinking that someone he loved could be guilty of betrayal, and Sirius found he didn’t want to disillusion him. He remembered how certain Andromeda had been that the family would love her enough to forgive her for marrying a Muggle-born, how he’d thought her naïve but been furious when his mother proved him right and her wrong. Perhaps James was being naïve too, but Sirius couldn’t stand the thought of him being proved wrong too.

How could he forgive Remus for that? How could he forgive himself for wanting to?

#

‘So?’ Peter’s eyes were wide, unsettled. The whole of his flat was in semi-darkness, filled with the warm aroma of candle wax and pale,fading roses.

‘I talked to them,’ said Sirius. ‘I… you’re right, Wormtail. I fucked up.’

He still nursed a fragile hope that maybe there really wasn’t any spy, that Remus might yet be innocent, but he could at least recognise that hope was all it was. He had no evidence that might exonerate Remus, no better theory about where the Death Eaters were getting their information, just his own pitiful, lovesick desires. How small they seemed, how selfish, pitted against Lily, James, and Harry’s lives.

Peter didn’t answer, just refilled his mug. Sirius swallowed a mouthful of sour wine and continued.

‘They shouldn’t trust me,’ said Sirius with a bitter, hollow laugh. ‘I can’t be trusted. I’m in love with a Death Eater.’

Still Peter didn’t answer. He kept looking at Sirius expectantly.

‘Thing is, Pete,’ Sirius managed at last. ‘I need to ask you something.’

‘Anything,’ said Peter, and for the first time he sounded almost eager.

#

Once the spell was cast, and Peter the Secret Keeper, Sirius began to breathe a little easier. It felt right, a good bluff, because who would ever suspect little Peter? He didn’t seem strong enough. But Sirius would look after him, make sure he stayed safe. He could manage that.

He put up a whole host of magical protections on his own flat too, in part to keep up the fiction that he was the Potters’ Secret Keeper, and partly because the story really did put him in danger. The Floo was disconnected, anti-Apparition Charms were in place, and he made the whole building unplottable, which was a shame for any neighbours expecting a delivery. Sirius put a Sneakoscope in every room, and Charmed the front door and windows to sound an alarm at the first touch of magic.

His flat was tightly and thoroughly protected against the Dark Arts, but no-one expects a Death Eater to break in like a common Muggle. Which was why it took Callie’s caterwauling to bring Sirius running into the hall to find Remus tucking the hair pin he’d used to pick the lock back in his pocket.

‘Hello, Sirius,’ he said. ‘ _Stupefy!_ ’

#

Sirius came to in the half-light of somewhere far from home. It was cool and dank, smelling faintly of old blood and the distant sweet stink of rotting vegetables. A compost heap? Glancing around, he could see the ground was tramped dirt and the roof made out of corrugated iron. That’s when he realised – he’d been here before. It was the Anderson shelter at the bottom of the Lupins’ garden, the place Remus had used to transform before Hogwarts.

 _Remus,_ he thought, suddenly furious. Sirius couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t go looking either because he was tied to a chair. It soon turned out that Remus had also Hexed him to stop him transforming.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ he yelled. ‘And what do you think you’re playing at?’

Remus, it transpired, had been standing right behind him.

‘Good, so you’re awake,’ he said, strolling into view. He was holding something behind his back. ‘I thought we might have a little chat.’

Before Sirius had a chance to respond Remus grabbed hold of his chin and forced his mouth open. Sirius struggled as best he could, but Remus still managed to pour something from the hidden bottle into his mouth.

‘Veritaserum,’ said Remus calmly. ‘Since you can’t be trusted.’

‘Fuck you,’ said Sirius. He knew what was happening now, was furious about it, the anger surging through him like a glorious, terrible tidal wave. ‘How dare you question me, you filthy fucking – _ugh_.’

‘Half-breed?’ offered Remus. ‘Monster?’

‘Well, aren’t you?’ yelled Sirius, struggling violently with the bonds tying him to the chair. It must’ve been Charmed to stay upright or he’d have toppled over by now. He wasn’t about to be grateful to Remus for that, the fucking _traitor_. ‘You disgust me.’

There was a stab of pain as Remus hit him with a Stinging Hex. ‘Likewise.’

‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ said Sirius, laughing humourlessly as the hex bit through his skin. ‘What’s the matter, Moony, not got the balls for the Cruciatus?’

Remus lunged forward, grabbing Sirius’ arms and sneering into his face. ‘You want to be very grateful it’s just me here,’ he said. ‘Plenty of people would be happy to give you exactly what you deserve.’

It was horrible, so unfamiliar to see Remus’ face contorted with such anger, such contempt. Sirius felt sick; he might’ve accepted that Remus was betraying them all, but actually seeing him like this was another matter. Sirius had told himself that maybe Remus was being forced to spy on them, that even if he was working for Voldemort he couldn’t be doing it voluntarily, that there had to be _limits_.

Seeing Remus like this now, though, knowing that there could only be one reason why Remus had abducted him crushed all those excuses and rationalisations. No-one forced Remus to do any of this, and he seemed to be acting alone. It was his choice, his idea.

He wasn’t the person Sirius thought he was. The realisation was as heart-breaking as it was enraging.

‘You fucking untie me and I’ll show you what you deserve,’ Sirius yelled, still struggling pointlessly.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Remus, taking a step back. ‘I think we’ll have a little chat about Lily and James.’

‘I won’t tell you where they are,’ said Sirius.

Remus just nodded. ‘I know how the Fidelius works.’

He didn’t know that Sirius wasn’t the Secret Keeper, though, and since Veritaserum couldn’t force a Secret Keeper to reveal their secret he needn’t find out. That was the point of the switch, to let everyone think Sirius was the Secret Keeper, so they’d come after Sirius, not Peter. As long as Remus was tying up and tormenting Sirius, he was leaving Peter alone. Peter was safe, and that meant Lily and James and Harry were safe too.

The thought of it gave Sirius some comfort, made him stronger. It didn’t matter how much Remus hurt him; Sirius could take it all to protect his friends.

‘So you know I’m not telling you anything,’ said Sirius.

‘You won’t tell me where Lily and James are,’ said Remus. ‘But as long as you’re here you can’t tell anyone else. And I’d like to know why you did it.’

‘Did what?’ demanded Sirius.

‘Word is that Voldemort’s prepared to spare one of the Potters as a favour to his favourite,’ said Remus, turning away as he spoke.

‘I suppose you’d know,’ Sirius shot contemptuously. It was the first Sirius had heard of any such thing, if it were even true, which it probably wasn’t. Voldemort didn’t spare people. He didn’t know the meaning of compassion. He ripped them all to fucking shreds, just like Remus was about to do to him.

‘Is that what sold it for you?’ Remus spun around, looking directly at Sirius. ‘Did you give up Lily and Harry for James? Do you think he’ll ever forgive you for that?’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ asked Sirius. What was Remus on about? He hadn’t just gone Dark; he’d lost his fucking mind.

Remus marched back towards him until he was standing directly in front of Sirius, leaning over him. ‘Answer me,’ he said. ‘Did you trade Lily and Harry for James?’

‘No!’ shouted Sirius. Confused as well as angry, because none of it made any _sense._ ‘Why, did you?’

It didn’t seem like Remus even heard him as he looked down, fingers clutching at his hair. It reminded Sirius, bizarrely, of the meltdown Remus had right before their Transfiguration N.E.W.T. and the memory was so sharp and painful that Sirius could’ve wept for all they’d lost.

‘It must be something else, the other thing.’ Remus was muttering to himself, almost as though Sirius weren’t even there anymore. ‘There has to be a reason.’

‘Reason for what?’ demanded Sirius impatiently.

Remus just shot him a look of deepest contempt. ‘You said you’d fallen in love,’ he said. ‘That’s what you told him – that you couldn’t be trusted because you were in love with a Death Eater.’

Sirius opened and closed his mouth silently, too taken aback to even wonder how Remus knew about that. Sadistic bastard, what sick fucking mind games was he playing?

‘Maybe it was a seduction,’ said Remus. ‘Is it true? Are you in love with a Death Eater?’

Sirius clamped his mouth tight shut, groaning and wriggling as he struggled to keep the words in. But it was no use; he’d always lacked restraint. He had no resistance to Veritaserum.

‘Yes.’ Sirius was left gasping as the answer was forced out of him. He couldn’t even bring himself to shout or argue about it. Sick with humiliation, he kept his head down, trembling with tight-coiled fury.

That wouldn’t be the end of it, though.

‘Who is it?’ said Remus. He yanked Sirius’ hair, forcing him to look up. ‘I’d really like to know who captured your shrivelled, black little heart. C’mon tell me – who are you in love with?’

‘You,’ admitted Sirius, because he couldn’t not. ‘I’m in love with you.’

Remus stared back at him, still and wide-eyed in shock. It wasn’t funny, but Sirius laughed anyway, only stopping when Remus hit him, a solid backhander across the side of his face.

‘You sick fuck,’ said Remus, and for once Sirius was forced to agree.

‘Don’t think it doesn’t mean I don’t fucking _despise_ you,’ shouted Sirius, struggling to get some sort of dignity back as Remus turned away from him again. ‘Don’t think I’m not going to rip you limb from fucking limb, you sorry traitorous scumbag. And if you ever find Harry, if you touch so much as a single hair on his head, I fucking swear I will make you suffer for it. You’re going to pay for this, do you understand me – ’

He could’ve kept it up, an endless stream of invective that might’ve lasted for days, if Remus hadn’t knocked him out cold again.

#

‘ _Rennervate_.’

The Anderson shelter seemed a little colder, darker, though Sirius couldn’t tell exactly how long he’d been out. His head was pounding, his throat raw from shouting, and the magical bindings Remus had placed on him dug painfully into his limbs. Putting aside the physical pain, Sirius tried to take mental stock of his situation. He’d been abducted by Remus, his childhood friend and long-term crush turned Death Eater. Remus had almost certainly captured him with a view to torturing or tricking him into giving up the Potters’ location. Oh, and Sirius had been forced to admit to being in love with him.

He’d had better days.

Remus must have been the one to revive him, but he had already moved away, pacing back and forth in front of Sirius.

‘There’s still some things I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘What, like loyalty?’ suggested Sirius. ‘Friendship? Trust?’

‘You shut your fucking mouth,’ said Remus, which was a bit rich considering he was the one who’d kidnapped Sirius and force-fed him Veritaserum to make him talk. ‘Why did Lily and James have to make a shit like you their Secret Keeper?’

‘They didn’t.’

The words were out before he even knew what was happening. Sirius felt desperate, free-falling, because this was the worst, the very worst thing he could’ve said. Suddenly all the personal humiliation of admitting his ridiculous crush meant nothing at all.

‘You’re not the Secret Keeper?’

Sirius tried, he really did, and he’d have swallowed his own tongue before he spoke willingly. All the same, it was only seconds before he gasped out, ‘No.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Peter,’ Sirius admitted, close to tears. He’d failed, he really had, because now Remus could go after Peter and, really, what chance did Peter stand? Sirius was meant to be looking out for him, protecting him, protecting them all. He couldn’t even do anything, tied up and wandless, and totally fucking _useless_.

Remus gave him an indecipherable look. He stopped pacing and stood tapping his hand against his palm as he addressed Sirius.

‘What is it you want?’ asked Remus.

Sirius blinked back at him, confused. The potion couldn’t make him answer because Sirius didn’t understand the question. Remus held out his wand, the tip of it brushing Sirius’ temple, and Sirius wondered if this was it. He’d proven himself useless now; Remus might as well kill him.

‘Ask me for something,’ said Remus, cool as you like. ‘A favour. Just one.’

Sirius wondered if he was meant to beg for his life, because fuck that, it wasn’t gonna happen. There was something about the cool, calculating way Remus was watching him that made him think that maybe it wasn’t. Remus looked very much like… well, like he was testing him. Sirius remembered, suddenly, Remus’ bizarre comments about trading Lily and Harry for James.

Was that what Remus wanted? To hear Sirius beg, not for his own life, but for James’s? It was something Sirius would be willing to do, and he was ready to do it, had the words on the tip of his tongue, except…

What Remus had said then had been true. James would hate him if he gave up Lily and Harry’s lives for his, he’d never be able to live with the shame. For a moment he thought of Lily, because James would put her first too, and maybe she’d forgive him. But it wasn’t about Lily either.

It was Harry that Voldemort wanted, Harry that Sirius had stood up in church and vowed to protect. Harry, who laughed and toddled and _lived_ and who everyone fell in love with. How could Remus ever want to hurt him?

It was Harry who, if Sirius didn’t stop _fucking everything up_ would never live to see his second birthday.

‘Not Harry,’ gasped Sirius, and it was more like a sob. ‘Spare him, please, don’t hurt Harry. Kill me but don’t hurt him, please.’

Remus didn’t answer, just stared at Sirius with a kind of shocked fascination.

‘Please, Moony, please,’ said Sirius. He was begging openly, no pride left just his own desperation and pathetic, worthless tears. ‘I don’t know what happened, what we did to make you turn against us, but it’s not Harry’s fault, don’t hurt Harry, have mercy.’

He couldn’t say anymore, just broke off in more deep, ragged sobs. Remus moved towards him in silence, reaching out and touching Sirius’ face. Instinctively, Sirius leant into his touch, weak, pitiful creature that he was, as Remus’ thumb stroked his cheek, wiping away his tears. Glancing up, there was something in Remus’ eyes, a shadow of the kindness that made Sirius fall in love with him. Maybe there was still a chance, some faint hope that Sirius could reach him after all.

‘I’ll do anything,’ said Sirius, his voice little more than a broken whisper. ‘Don’t give Harry to Voldemort.’

‘I won’t, Padfoot,’ said Remus. ‘I wouldn’t.’

It took Sirius a little too long to register that Remus was still stroking his face, and how wildly inappropriate that was. Was it another trick? More mind games? Belatedly he pulled away with a jerky move of his head.

‘You’re not a Death Eater, are you?’ asked Remus quietly. ‘You’re not working for Voldemort.’

‘Of course not,’ said Sirius irritably. What kind of a stupid question was that?

Remus took a step back and pulled something out of his pocket which he then held it up in front of Sirius. It was the same bottle of Veritaserum he’d forced Sirius to drink from. He pulled out the cork and took a swig, far more than the recommended dose.

‘Ask me,’ he said, his eyes boring into Sirius with a burning intensity.

‘Why did you abduct me?’

‘I thought it was you,’ said Remus. ‘I thought you were the spy. That you were working for Voldemort. James said… everyone thought Lily and James were going to make you their Secret Keeper. I could feel it; I knew the spell had been cast because I couldn’t remember where they live. I kidnapped you to stop you handing them to Voldemort.’

Sirius shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. The world seemed to be turning and rearranging itself all around him. ‘And it’s not you either?’

Remus shook his head. ‘I’ve never worked for Voldemort.’

In spite of everything, Sirius found himself smiling. He felt a surge of wild joy bursting through him. _Moony didn’t betray us_ he thought. _He isn’t a Death Eater._

It only lasted a moment, though, with no time to celebrate.

‘Peter,’ said Sirius, panicked. ‘It’s Peter.’

‘Peter’s the spy.’ Remus echoed his thoughts, like he was just realising it himself.

Sirius started to struggle frantically. He was still tightly bound. ‘Peter’s the Secret Keeper!’ he said, so loud it seemed to startle Remus. ‘It’s him, I told them to switch. And he’s the traitor, it’s him, he was so pleased and now he can sell Lily and James to Voldemort. We have to stop him!’

‘Padfoot, stop panicking,’ said Remus. He put his hands on Sirius’ shoulders, holding him still. ‘I’m going to untie you but you have to calm down. I’ll let you go and we’ll go and find Peter.’

Sirius stopped struggling and gazed up at him. ‘Together?’

Remus nodded.

‘What are we going to do?’

It didn’t take Remus long to decide. ‘We’re going to kill him.’

#

Capturing Peter turned out to be the easy part. He hadn’t gone to Voldemort yet, a stroke of good fortune Sirius would be grateful for his whole life. All Sirius had to do was send a message suggesting that the Potters were on the move to bring Peter scampering around to his flat.

Even without Remus’ help it would’ve been easy. They had Peter trapped like… well, like a rat.

‘It isn’t me!’ he said with a desperate whine.

‘No?’ Remus looking so damn calm when he spoke, Sirius didn’t know how he managed it. ‘So who was it then?’

‘I… I… I don’t know what you mean,’ Peter sputtered ineffectually, and backed away as Sirius snarled in disgust.

‘You’d been doing so well,’ said Remus. ‘You had me convinced that Sirius was the spy, and him that it was me. Clever. But you see…’

He trailed off, glancing over at Sirius, who couldn’t help but smile back. It was just such a relief to have Remus by his side.

‘We’ve been comparing notes,’ said Sirius.

Peter glanced between them frantically, perhaps looking for sympathy or else trying to make up his mind. ‘You can’t listen to him, Remus,’ he said at last. ‘He’s not in his right mind!’

Sirius let out a hollow laugh, which probably wasn’t the best rebuttal, but Remus raised his wand higher.

‘You say one more word about him,’ he told Peter. ‘I dare you.’

Peter didn’t dare, just made a pathetic squeaking noise and backed into the corner. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

Sirius smiled.

‘Do you know why Lily and James were so quick to agree to the switch?’ he asked. ‘They think I don’t realise, but they were protecting me. They knew I’d be a target, that I’d die rather than betray them. But they didn’t want me to.’

‘You see, Wormtail,’ Remus continued, ‘the only thing more effective than a faithful Secret Keeper is a dead Secret Keeper.’

‘The dead can’t squeal,’ said Sirius.

Peter started crying then, but Sirius felt no sympathy. He was only concerned with his own sorry skin.

‘You should have realised,’ said Remus. ‘You should have known what we’d do.’

 _Yes_ thought Sirius, _yes, that’s it exactly_. It felt right, righteous even, that this was how it should be, that he and Remus should take down the traitor together. Except – 

‘Wait!’ he called out, earning a startled look from Remus and an undeservedly hopeful one from Peter. ‘Prongs should be here.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Remus.

It didn’t take long to fetch him, and James listened, a parade of increasingly surprised expressions crossing his face as Remus and Sirius explained in turn. Peter made several attempts to interrupt or to plead for his own life, until James pulled out his wand and Silenced him with a disgruntled tut.

‘No,’ said James, once Sirius had reached the part about killing Peter.

‘But, the Fidelius,’ said Remus. ‘It’ll keep you safe.’

‘No,’ repeated James. His eyes darted between Remus and Sirius. ‘Both of you, put down your wands. You’re not splintering your souls on my account.’

James turned to Peter. ‘Don’t even begin to imagine that you’re off the hook,’ he said coolly. ‘You’re going to pay for what you’ve done. You are not going to let Voldemort near my wife or my son. And you are not going to hurt my friends anymore.’

Peter let out a strange, silent sob. James lifted his wand, so that the silver stag of his Patronus erupted and danced out of the window. He turned back to Peter.

‘I’ll let Dumbledore decide what to do with you.’

#

After that it was all a bit of a blur. Peter was on his way to Azkaban, only after James and Sirius had confessed they were all Animagi lest Peter take his first chance to transform and scurry away into the gutter with the other rats. The Ministry would want to know more about that, but it could wait.

They never did find out what Dumbledore did, though most likely knowing the identity of his spy – and having had a chance to remove a few strands of his hair – allowed him to set the trap that finally caught Voldemort. No-one really knew what he’d done, or how he’d done it, but soon Voldemort was, if not gone for good as everyone hoped, at least gone for now.

It was over.


	7. Truth Potion No. 6: November 1981

_Truth Potion No. 6: November 1981. Forcibly administered by Bellatrix Lestrange. Supplier unknown_.

‘You’re not really enjoying this, are you?’

Sirius did his best to smile, not wanting to seem ungrateful. It had been kind of Lily and James to put together a belated birthday party for him, especially after all that had happened. There were plenty of people willing to wish him well, all still excited from Voldemort’s downfall. The Potters’ home in Godric’s Hollow was full to bursting with neighbours, school friends, and what remained of the Order.

Remus wasn’t there.

‘Why don’t you take Harry?’ said Lily, handing him over. ‘Give him his bath. I’m fairly certain it’s your fault he’s got trifle in his hair anyway.'

Sirius bounced his godson on his hip. ‘But all these people…’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell them all to fuck off,’ said Lily. ‘Go on, I’ll get rid while you’re upstairs. I’m sure James’ll be glad to get you to himself for a drink when you’re done.’

With a silent nod of agreement, Sirius hugged Harry close and carried him upstairs. Harry gurgled and laughed, pawing at Sirius’ face and hair with sticky hands. It was better, being with Harry, who had simple needs and was easy to please, honestly delighted when Sirius conjured up streams of bubbles, or Charmed the bathwater to swirl into a mini-whirlpool. Harry pretended the water was pulling him under, shrieking with delight as Sirius performed a melodramatic rescue operation, fighting back hordes of soap merpeople and sponge grindylows.

Harry was just so vibrant. So _alive_. He shouted for more when Sirius splashed him, grizzled when Sirius insisted on drying between his toes, and let out a triumphant shout when he escaped Sirius’ grasp and performed an exuberant streak across the landing (definitely his father’s child). Maybe it was a bit ridiculous for Sirius to prefer the company of an energetic toddler to most adults, but Sirius suspected that was the least of his problems.

#

‘I was thinking, maybe, you could stay here for a bit.’

James sat back on the overstuffed, chintzy couch and passed Sirius a glass of Firewhisky.

‘It’s alright, Prongs, I don’t need a babysitter,’ said Sirius, staring into the glass.

‘Ever think we actually _like_ having you around, you knob?’ James responded. ‘Anyway, it’s no bother. We can easily transfigure you a bed in Harry’s room, if you don’t mind sharing.’

‘No.’ Sirius stiffened. ‘No, I… I don’t want to scare him.’

‘Scare him? Padfoot, surely you can hold it together to wank in the shower for a few days,’ James joked weakly.

Sirius threw back his shot of Firewhisky and slammed the glass down on the table before answering. ‘I’ve not been sleeping too well. I have… dreams.’

‘Yeah?’ James said. ‘So that’s why you look like shit.’

‘Thanks for that.’ Sirius managed a half-laugh, but he knew James was waiting for a proper explanation. ‘It’s always the same. Hallowe’en. I dream that… that Wormtail got away with it. That I come here and find you… just by the front door. Lily’s upstairs, in front of Harry’s cot and he’s crying. That part doesn’t make any sense because he wouldn’t – ’

‘Padfoot, listen to me.’ James spoke firmly, taking hold of Sirius’ upper arms and turning him so that they were facing. ‘None of it makes any sense because it’s just a dream. Lily and I are fine. Harry’s safe. You’re safe.’

Sirius nodded mutely. Intellectually he knew it was true but the danger still _felt_ close by. Like he’d escaped it through some trickery and the fates were biding their time until they paid him back.

‘That’s it, you’re moving in, at least for a few days, no arguments,’ James insisted. ‘We’ll find somewhere to stick a dog blanket for you. And if it’s here that you’re having nightmares about, well, actually being here will mean you can see everything’s fine. It might help.’

‘Thanks, Prongs,’ said Sirius. James had a point. The closer he kept to the Potters the better. ‘I’ll try not to ruin any more parties.’

‘We threw a party for you because we love you and want you to be happy,’ said James. ‘It didn’t make you happy so there was no point, end of. You could’ve said before, you know, if you weren’t up to it.’

Sirius shrugged. In truth he hadn’t realised how awful being surrounded by so many happy people would make him feel. ‘I thought Moony might’ve come.’

‘Yeah, I did. He was kind of vague when I told him but I assumed he’d show his face,’ said James. ‘Mind, I think he feels guilty about the whole abducting and hexing you thing. I’ve told him you’d be OK about it but you know how he is.’

‘That’s not the reason,’ said Sirius quietly. He kept his eyes down, staring at his own well-bitten fingernails. ‘While he… when it was happening. I told him that I’m in love with him.’

James let out a low whistle. ‘Right in between all the kidnapping and hexing? Merlin’s crack, Padfoot, could you be any more melodramatic? Talk about timing.’

Sirius aimed a mild slap in James’s general direction. ‘He gave me Veritaserum!’

‘Veritaserum has nothing on your personality, mate,’ said James. His expression became more serious. ‘How did he take it?’

It took Sirius a while to answer as he swallowed heavily, trying to dislodge the painful lump in his front. He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling with eyes wide open.

‘That’s why he’s been avoiding me,’ said Sirius. ‘He feels bad about hurting me.’

‘Oh, Padfoot.’ James’s voice was full of sympathy. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m such an idiot,’ said Sirius miserably.

‘No, you’re not,’ said James, pulling him into a hug. ‘You’ve just been unlucky.’

‘I am though,’ gulped Sirius, sniffling into James’s shirt. ‘All this time I had these stupid romantic ideas about love and… and it’s pathetic but I really thought that being in love would make everything better. But I love him so much and it’s _horrible_.’

‘Hey, hey, it’s alright,’ James soothed as he rubbed Sirius’ back. ‘You’ll be alright.’

‘What’s wrong with me, Prongs?’ asked Sirius, feeling utterly wretched. ‘Why am I so unlovable?’

His parents hadn’t cared about him. Regulus preferred the Death Eaters. Peter had betrayed him. None of his relationships lasted. And Remus didn’t love him.

‘You stop that now,’ said James, catching Sirius’ face in his hands and looking at him directly. ‘ _I_ love you, and Lily loves you, and Harry loves you. I know it’s not quite the epic romance you’ve been looking for, you great soppy git, but you are not unlovable and I won’t have it otherwise.’

Sirius nodded, not quite able to meet James’s eyes. ‘I didn’t mean…’

James just hugged him again. ‘It’s alright. I know you’re hurting and I wish things weren’t so shit for you. You don’t deserve it. But we’re not going to let you die of a broken heart. Right, Lils?’

Lily was standing in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest and a sympathetic smile on her face. Sirius wondered how long she’d been there, but suspected anything she’d not overheard she’d have worked out.

‘Course not,’ she said, crossing the room to sit on the other side of Sirius. ‘Who else is going to forget to clean up after they’ve flooded my bathroom?’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Sirius. ‘And for, you know. Being so pathetic.’

‘That’s OK,’ said Lily. ‘Having to contend with your boy dramas is the basis of our entire friendship. And James is right – we’re not going to leave you to be miserable.’

Lily hugged him and James wrapped his arms wide around them both, leaving Sirius feeling like the jam in a great squishy Potter sandwich. He supposed they were only doing it to make him feel better.

It sort of did a bit.

#

By the time Sirius returned to his own flat a few days later he was feeling marginally less hopeless. He was sleeping better, and had allowed Lily to bully him into finally handing in his application for Healer training, figuring that at least other people’s suffering might be a distraction. Being back home wasn’t easy, though. Despite Callie’s sincere and sometimes stinky devotion, he was still almost painfully lonely.

He kept going, even managing to get through his interview at St Mungo’s without making a tit of himself.

‘James Potter,’ he said, grinning as James’s face appeared in the mirror. ‘Alright, Prongs. Fancy a pint?

‘Sure, mate, just not right this minute’ James ran his hand through his hair as he spoke. ‘I could call round yours after tea?’

‘Saying no to lunchtime drinking is the first sign of getting old,’ teased Sirius. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

Sirius shoved the mirror back in his pocket. It would’ve seemed weirdly clingy to mention that he’d already been standing in the street in Godric’s Hollow, and downright stalker-y that he had a clear enough view of their living room window to see Remus tumbling out of the Floo.

It was fine, really. James _was_ friends with Remus too, and he’d probably tell Sirius about it later. And it wasn’t like he expected Remus to avoid him forever.

#

Sirius went home alone, and spent the afternoon reading a motorcycle magazine, sharing fish-and-chips with Callie, and writing a letter to the Prophet complaining about the declining standards of their crossword puzzles. He was bored. There wasn’t even any need to keep up the magical protections on the flat now that Voldemort was gone. The front door was protected with a simple Yale lock.

Death Eaters can’t generally unpick Muggle locks. Which was why Bellatrix Lestrange blasted the door off its hinges.

Despite being on his feet in an instant and fighting like some kind of a whirling dervish, Sirius didn’t stand a chance, outnumbered four-to-one. Callie made a brave effort at evening the odds, flinging herself in a flurry of claws at fuckface Rodolphous but a swift kick sent her flying into the fireplace and spinning away in a swirl of green.

‘Is that the best you can do, dear cousin?’ taunted Bellatrix. ‘Or have you got an attack grindylow in the sink? An army of canaries? Of course, rumour has it you’re a bit of an animal yourself.’

Sirius was too busy duelling her arsehole husband and his idiot brother to answer back, far less defend himself when she decided to attack with her wand rather than just running off her mouth.

‘ _Crucio_ ,’ she said, sounding almost bored. Sirius fell down, screaming, and wondered if this was the end.

The pain seemed to last for hours although Sirius knew, in the brief moments of clarity he managed between Curses, that it was probably only minutes, strung out long with agony.

‘Has he had enough?’ said a voice from the corner. ‘We don’t want to break another one.’

Panting heavily, Sirius managed to prop himself up on his elbows. A runty little boy was glancing around the room – Sirius wasn’t sure, but he thought it was Barty Crouch’s sprog. The pain was still racing, hot and furious through his bones, but Sirius did his best to gather his wits. The horrible cuckoo clock that he’d not got around to smashing to smithereens simply because Peter had given it to him showed that it was not yet four. What time would James be round? Seven, maybe eight? Sirius wasn’t sure he could last that long.

Suddenly Sirius was being pulled into sitting position by the brothers Letwat, and Rabastan shoved something into his mouth. 

‘Veritaserum,’ said Rodolphous. ‘My wife does love a good Cruciatus but we’d rather not destroy your mind before you’ve told us anything useful.’

Great, another truth potion. Sirius hadn’t had enough of those.

‘Sure you want me to stay sane?’ Sirius taunted. ‘I thought “psychotic bitch” was just your type.’

Bellatrix hexed him again, but it was mild by her standards. A livid red burn blossomed on Sirius’ neck.

‘What do you arseholes want?’ asked Sirius, gritting his teeth through the pain. ‘Your precious Dark Lord is gone. It’s over. You lost.’

It was either a very right or the very wrong thing to say, depending on whether or not it was a good idea to send Bellatrix into a screaming, curse-firing rage, which ended with Sirius gasping and bleeding heavily from his forehead, and the curtains on fire.

‘It’s. Not. Over,’ Rodolphous said, and Sirius might’ve known he was still a stone-cold bastard. He and Rabastan were holding Sirius one arm each, like some hideous pair of sibling bookends, while Bellatrix stuck her wand in his face. Crouch was somewhere in the background, muttering darkly.

‘Tell me what happened to the Dark Lord,’ said Bellatrix, leering over him.

‘Dumbledore,’ said Sirius. ‘You know that. Everyone knows that.’

‘Dead?’ she asked, and if Sirius didn’t know she wasn’t capable of it he might almost have said she looked vulnerable.

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’

Bellatrix sneered at him but held her wand for once. ‘What did Dumbledore do to him?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Sirius, knowing that meant he was near the end. If Bellatrix and her backing singers couldn’t get useful information out of him, they’d probably kill him.

Bellatrix let out another furious yell and another volley of curses that Sirius could do little but squirm to avoid, his frantic attempt to cast a wandless Shield Charm yielding precious little results. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light in the fireplace and then there were footsteps, someone running and indistinct shouting.

‘ _Expelliarmus!_ ’ James’s voice rang out clear above the rest and Sirius could’ve cried with relief. It wasn’t Bellatrix that had been disarmed, though, and she hit him again, and again, until everything went black.

#

‘ _Rennervate._ Oh, Merlin, Sirius, please wake up. Don’t die, you can’t be dead, don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I love you, I do, I love you so much. C’mon, Padfoot. _Rennervate_.’’

Blearily, Sirius half-opened one eye. He could just about discern a brown-ish, vaguely person-shaped blob before the effort became too much and he closed it again. There was something wet on his face.

He tried to speak, but only managed a rough croaking sound. He could hear scuffling, distant banging, and someone crying.

‘ _Sirius!_ ’

#

Sirius woke up in a strange bed. The room was brightly lit, full of the scent of arnica and sharply citrus Cleaning Charms. He was in hospital. Craning his head to one side, he saw Remus sitting in the chair by his bed, with one hand in Sirius’ and the other petting Callie, who purred loudly as she lounged in his lap. 

‘Hey,’ said Remus softly.

‘Hey.’ Sirius tried to sit up, without much success. Remus stood to help him, dislodging Callie who tumbled onto Sirius, mewing enthusiastically.

‘Oh, mind the ribs, Calamity,’ Sirius groaned and tried to manoeuvre her to sit on the edge of his bed, rather than on top of a particularly painful bruise.

Remus looked amused as he reached out to tickle her ears. ‘I thought Callie was short for Callisto?’

‘It was you that called her a calamity in the first place,’ said Sirius. ‘Anyway, what’s with the all the petting today? I thought you didn’t like Callie.’

‘She’s not so bad,’ said Remus fondly. ‘She saved your life, you know. If she hadn’t come flying out of the Potters’ Floo, yowling like a mad thing, we mightn’t have got to you in time. She’s so clever; I didn’t even know kneazles could use the Floo.’

‘Well, I’m glad the two of you are friends at last,’ said Sirius. There were actually a number of complex Charms on his fireplace primed to transport Callie to safety in case of emergency, but it seemed a shame to spoil the moment by mentioning it.

Remus stopped smiling all of a sudden, his hands falling to his side. ‘I thought you were going to die.’

‘But I didn’t,’ said Sirius gently.

‘I was so scared. I thought I might lose you.’ Remus spoke so softly, like every word was causing him pain. ‘That you were going to die thinking I didn’t love you.’

The breath caught at the back of Sirius’ throat and a memory stirred, _I love you, I do, I love you so much_.

Sirius wanted, needed, to say so much, but he was overwhelmed, love-struck and only managed a single breathy, ‘ _Moony,’_ before a bell rang, signalling the end of visiting hours. Remus stepped backwards, awkward, like he didn’t know what to do with his own bony limbs and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘They should let you home tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk properly then.’

‘I don’t want you to go,’ said Sirius. He was probably pouting but he _had_ nearly died. He was allowed to be a little bit petulant.

‘You need to rest,’ Remus told him. ‘And I have a lot to think about.’

‘What?’ Sirius demanded sharply. What did Remus have to think about? Either he loved Sirius back or he didn’t… and actually, Sirius wasn’t sure which one it was. He _thought_ Remus had confessed to loving him, but Sirius honestly wasn’t certain of anything, still weak from Bella’s liberal use of Dark Magic and woozy with pain potions. He tried to sit up again but the effort made his head swim.

‘Rest,’ said Remus kindly. ‘Sleep. You’ll feel better.’

Sleep was not what Sirius needed to feel better. He needed to know if Remus really did love him. He needed Remus to stay with him. He just needed Remus, really. How was Sirius meant to get better without him? 

‘Don’t go.’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Remus. ‘I promise.’

Remus pulled James’s invisibility cloak from his back pocket and wrapped it around Callie before hoisting her up on his shoulder. Huh, right, pets weren’t allowed in hospital. 

‘Please, Moony,’ said Sirius, and he must have sounded particularly pathetic, because Remus darted forwards and leant down to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before turning to hurry away.

When the Healers came to check Sirius’ injuries and dose him with more Sleeping Draught he was staring at the doorway, his fingers resting on the spot where Remus had kissed him.

#

‘I’ll admit it, you did give have me worried there for a bit,’ said James. ‘I’m mostly pleased you’re alright. In fact, I was so relieved when the Healers gave you the all-clear that I told Lils I’d lay off taking the piss for at least a day or two, purely out of the goodness of my heart.’

Sirius rolled his eyes. He was perfectly fine; there was no need for Lily and James to walk him home from St Mungo’s. He suspected they knew this and were just looking for opportunities to torment him.

‘You’d be more convincing if you could stop smirking,’ he said, but James only grinned wider.

‘What?’ he said. ‘Am I not allowed to be happy for you?’

‘No,’ said Sirius. ‘Lily and I discussed this. We agreed. You’re not allowed to be happy at all.’

He glanced over at Lily, hoping for support, but he ought to have known better. She gave him the sort of indulgent smile that suggested she was going to be nice, but didn’t fool Sirius for a second.

‘Now then, James,’ she said. ‘You promised not to tease Sirius about his boyfriend.’

‘He’s not… ’ Sirius trailed off, suddenly, unaccountably flustered by Moony being referred to as his boyfriend. ‘We haven’t talked about...’

James hooted with laughter, apparently incapable of speech at all and Lily didn’t do a thing to stop him.

‘Sirius Black,’ she said instead, ‘are you _blushing_?’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ said Sirius, making James double over, clutching at his sides.

Lily clapped her hands together, her expression radiant. ‘This is the best day of my life.’

Sirius tried _really_ hard to scowl at her. James managed to pull himself together at last, standing upright and making a great show of wiping a tear from behind his glasses before slinging his arm around Lily.

‘Perhaps we’d best be off home,’ he said. ‘I’ve got this weird feeling that Padfoot doesn’t want us hanging around anymore.’

‘You don’t say,’ muttered Sirius.

‘We’ll expect you both for dinner tomorrow night,’ said Lily, wrapping her arm around James’ waist and finally, mercifully, steering him away.

James started to walk back down the street, but paused to look back and add, ‘after you and Moony’ve had a chance to _talk_.’

Sirius flicked a V but James just laughed, tugging Lily close as they ambled away.

‘You are the worst friends anyone ever had,’ he called after them, laughing because they were absolutely the best.

#

Thing was, they actually did talk.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Remus, his voice small and sad. He was leaning up against the bay window in Sirius’ living room, his long fingers curled tight around the ledge. There was a brittle, cautious edge to him that hadn’t been there the day before, like some distance from the immediate aftermath of Sirius being attacked had given him time to rebuild his defences.

‘Sorry for what?’ asked Sirius, genuinely confused. Remus hadn’t done anything wrong.

‘I abducted you!’ Remus stood up very straight, and he sounded angry. ‘I attacked you, I tied you up, I force-fed you potions – why aren’t you angry? You should be furious with me.’

Sirius just stared at him, incredulous. ‘Why would I be angry at you?’ he asked. ‘If you hadn’t… it was only because of what you did that we managed to catch Wormtail.’

‘Maybe it worked out for the best.’ Remus twitched, arms crossing his chest as he looked away. ‘But that doesn’t excuse what I did to you.’

‘You thought I was about to sell Lily and James to Voldemort,’ said Sirius. ‘And maybe you were wrong about me being the spy, but I was wrong about you so we’re even. You did what you had to do to save Harry. It was really brave of you.’

It occurred to Sirius how frightening things must’ve been for Remus. At least Sirius’d had some support – James mightn’t have been open to a rational discussion of the possibility that any of his friends were a traitor, but he would’ve been an order of magnitude more outraged at the suggestion it was Sirius, and Remus must’ve known it.

‘I hurt you.’ Remus looked stricken. ‘I deliberately hurt you and that’s awful.’

Sirius couldn’t stand it anymore. He crossed the room in quick strides and took Remus’ hands in his own, looking directly into his beautiful, sad eyes.

‘You didn’t hurt me, Moony,’ he said. ‘You saved me. You saved us all.’

Remus gave him a small, sceptical half-frown, as if to say he knew Sirius was wrong but it was no use arguing with the daft bastard. Sirius recognised it from second year, when they told him _of course_ they were still going to be friends, and when he caught them with stolen advanced transfiguration text books insisting _of course_ they knew what they were doing. Remus always took time to be convinced, but Sirius was very persistent.

‘Is that why you were avoiding me?’ asked Sirius, moving a step closer. He took Remus’ hands and put them on his own shoulders, glad that Remus held on, and didn’t seem to mind when Sirius put his hands on Remus’ waist. ‘Did you think it would make me stop loving you?’

‘No,’ said Remus. ‘I know you’re too – ’

‘– loyal?’ suggested Sirius. ‘Steadfast? Devoted?’

‘Stubborn,’ said Remus, with a touch of exasperation that made Sirius’ heart sing. That was better, more like his Moony. ‘Ridiculous. Sentimental.’

‘You’re really determined not to let me enjoy the moment, aren’t you?’

‘Force of habit, I’m afraid,’ said Remus. ‘I’ve spent an awfully long time trying not to fall in love with you.’

Sirius stopped short, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

‘Well, you know, Moony, ordinarily I’d like you to succeed at everything you try,’ he said at last. ‘But not that.’

‘Just as well.’ Remus smiled fondly. ‘Given how spectacularly I failed at it.’

‘You gave a very good impression of never wanting anything that wasn’t strictly platonic,’ said Sirius. There was no heat to it, but the memory of all the time he’d spent convinced his feelings for Remus were painfully unrequited was still sharp enough to sting. ‘Which of my recent pitiful escapades was it that won you over?’

Remus smiled back at him, the tips of his fingers playing with the ends of Sirius’ hair, pleasantly tickly on his neck.

‘I think,’ he said softly, his voice warm and wistful. ‘I think I just got tired of being afraid.’

Sirius nodded, pleased. He didn’t want Remus to ever feel afraid again, and certainly not because of him.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘So I don’t get to tell people I had to nearly die to get you to admit to fancying me?’

‘Because that’s so much better than a truth potion and a moderate amount of violence.’ Remus rolled his eyes and it was _definitely_ better. ‘I was going to tell you anyway. Lily and James… well, they convinced me I ought to.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Sirius. ‘Although you don’t want to mind anything Prongs says – I wasn’t anything like as pathetic as he’s probably told you.’

Remus grinned. ‘He didn’t quite accuse you of writing poetry,’ he said. ‘But he did suggest you weren’t far off.’

‘Dreadful man, can’t be trusted,’ said Sirius. ‘I don’t suppose Lily stood up for me either.’

‘She reckoned I needed the threat of competition to motivate me,’ said Remus. ‘To hear her talk, you’d think she’d been running some sort of International Wizard Dating Agency the whole time she and Prongs were in hiding.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ confirmed Remus. ‘Apparently there’s an Irish Curse Breaker, a Dragon Tamer from Madrid, and a Russian acrobat all owling her daily to be set up with you. Oh, and the Swedish twins.’

‘Interesting,’ said Sirius. ‘Tell me more about the Russian acrobat.’

‘Well, assuming he’s not the product of Lily’s overactive imagination – which, obviously, he is – he’s getting his arse kicked seven ways to Sunday if he comes sniffing around you.’

Sirius laughed. ‘You gonna fight other boys for me?’ he said. ‘Think I might quite like that.’

‘Maybe,’ said Remus. ‘There’s things I’d rather do.’

And with that he slipped his hand behind Sirius’ neck, gently urging him forward until their lips met. The kiss was perfect, slow and sweet, and went on until Sirius lost all sense of time or anything at all except a giddy, soaring euphoria.

‘Padfoot.’ Remus breathed out the word like a prayer, his breath warm against Sirius’ lips as they shared air, their foreheads pressed together.

There was so much Sirius wanted to say to him. He wanted to tell Remus that he was The One, the true love Sirius had been searching for, yearning for, for so long, not because he’d been struck with a bolt from the blue but because of how they’d grown together. He wanted to share every filthy, wonderful fantasy he’d ever had about him, all the things he wanted to do to Remus and all the things he wanted Remus to do to him. He wanted Remus to know that Sirius would do anything for him, always, that Sirius would do everything in his power to ensure that Remus never knew a moment’s pain or unhappiness as long as they both lived.

It threatened to overwhelm him, the swirling vortex of emotion that Sirius couldn’t even begin to put in order far less into words. Instead, all he could do was distil it down into one simple, essential, ‘I love you.’

Remus smiled back at him like it was the best thing he’d ever heard. ‘I love you too.’

He kissed Sirius again, and again, until Sirius truly knew what it was to be breathless, kissed quite insane.

‘Moony,’ he breathed, low and ragged. ‘Please.’

Remus pressed against him, pushing Sirius right up against the wall. Sirius felt the heat of his erection pressed against him and yearned to touch it, thought he might die for want of touching it. His teeth nipped at Sirius’ neck, sharp and hot, and when he whispered, ‘let’s go to bed,’ into Sirius’ ear it was all Sirius could do not to come where he stood.

#

Sirius fell into Remus’ embrace, naked and unafraid, kissing, touching, tasting, feeling, revelling in the opportunity to explore the entirety of Moony’s body, the unexplored dips and angles that had been hidden for so long and were now his at last.

‘Tell me what you want,’ said Remus with a voice like warm honey. ‘You can have anything, anything at all.’

‘I want you to fuck me,’ Sirius gasped out, although maybe that was moving a bit too fast. ‘I mean, if you want to.’

‘Oh, I want to.’ Remus pushed forward, toppling Sirius backward and pressing him into the mattress. ‘You have no idea.’

Sirius thought he did, in fact, have a very good idea, but Remus’ hands were holding him down, and Remus’ tongue was in his mouth, and he’d never felt less like arguing.

#

Remus crowded him up against the headboard, with Sirius’ legs around his waist and his hands on Sirius’ hips, holding him in place as Remus thrust into him with desperate slowness. Remus fucked with all the deliberate precision Sirius had imagined, the tip of his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth, every grunt of pleasure smooth and melodic.

Sirius held onto him, fingers grasping at the sweat-streaked planes of Remus’ back, babbling incoherently about love and deeper, harder, more, and fuck Moony, yes, don’t stop, don’t stop ever.

#

After, Sirius relaxed into the damp comfort of Remus’ embrace, listening as Remus’ breathing returned to normal, feeling the reassuring thwump of his heart. He turned in Remus’ arms, reaching to press a kiss to his mouth.

‘That was amazing.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Remus, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the tips of Sirius’ hair. ‘It was.’

Sirius yawned happily, almost ready to let sleep claim him, when he felt Remus’ grin.

‘Just as well,’ he said. ‘Imagine if we’d been through all that only to find out we were sexually incompatible.’

‘Wouldn’t have been enough to put me off.’

‘No?’

‘Nah,’ said Sirius. ‘I’m very persistent. Wouldn’t have minded taking the time to train you up.’

‘Oh you wouldn’t, would you?’ said Remus, reaching for a pillow and thwacking Sirius with it. ‘People train dogs, you know.’

Sirius grinned. ‘And what do you think they do with wolves?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Remus. ‘Hunt them?’

‘Domesticate them,’ said Sirius, and Remus laughed so hard he started coughing. It was glorious.

#

Several hours, a lot more sex, and very little sleep later, Sirius awoke to the warm glow of sunshine through the windows and Remus gazing at him across the pillow.

‘Watching me sleep?’ he said with a smirk that probably didn’t hide quite how delightful he found it.

‘You’ve ruined me,’ said Remus. ‘I shall be an object of mockery for years to come.’

‘And why’s that?

‘I have to piss,’ said Remus, which admittedly wasn’t quite the romantic opening that Sirius had expected. ‘I really ought to get up and go to the bathroom. It’d only take a minute.’

‘OK, but I don’t see how that’s my fault.’ 

‘I know I’ll have to go to the loo sometime, but I just can’t bring myself to get out of bed,’ explained Remus. ‘I don’t want to stop lying next to you even for a second. I like it too much, being able to see you, and touch you, and kiss you whenever I like.’

He leant forward, demonstrating the point by pressing a soft kiss to Sirius’ forehead.

‘And I’m sure I’ll be just as bad at dinner tonight,’ Remus continued. ‘Well, maybe not about the toilet, specifically, but I’ll probably spend the whole evening gazing at you like an idiot, wanting to sit next to you or hold your hand, and blushing any time you lick something. Prongs is going to laugh himself stupid.’

‘Yeah, he is,’ said Sirius happily, wriggling a bit closer. Prongs was going to tease them forever for being so in love. How wonderful. ‘Prongs is going to mock us openly. And Lily will act nice but then she’ll randomly ask sex questions to try and embarrass us.’

Remus snorted. ‘She will as well. Merlin knows how bad they’ll have to be to embarrass you.’

‘That won’t stop her,’ said Sirius. ‘They’re both going to be merciless.’

‘At least we’ll be safe with Harry.’

‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Sirius. ‘He’s taken to smacking Prongs in the face if he kisses Lily while she’s holding him, so you’d best be on the lookout for random acts of jealous toddler aggression.’

‘I see,’ said Remus. ‘So we’ve got Prongs being obnoxious, Lily obscene, and violence from Harry. What about us? How are we going to be?’

‘Us?’ Sirius smiled, rosily buoyant with Remus beside him, beautiful in the golden dawn light. ‘We’re going to be happy.’

‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Remus. ‘I think we are.’


	8. Epilogue: 31st October 1991

_Epilogue: 31st October 1991_

‘Are you happy, Moony?’ asks Sirius as Remus takes a drink.

‘You know I am,’ says Remus. ‘Of course, I might be happier if you didn’t put me through this ridiculous charade every year.’

Sirius frowns, pushing the bottle away. ‘One of these days I’m going to get us a real truth potion instead of Mandrake Vodka.’

It’s an idle threat, and they both know it, because for all truth potions have informed and shaped Sirius’ life, he doesn’t need them with Remus. What they have is true, with no magic required. Sirius hasn’t needed help with his transformations for years, but he still mutters _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ when faced with a particularly challenging patient. It’s the ritual, the routine that makes a difference, drawing strength from memory.

‘Scared the Hospital Director might catch you stealing from her personal stash?’ Remus asks anyway.

‘Please. I never get caught.’ Sirius tilts his head, watching Remus carefully as Remus fidgets with his empty glass. ‘How does this compare to our other anniversaries?’

Remus considers the question at length, glancing between his empty glass and the spot over Sirius’ left shoulder. ‘It gets easier every year.’

Sirius reaches across the table to take Remus’ hand in his own.

‘I wanted you to know that you’ll never be frightened and alone inside your own head again,’ he says. ‘But just telling you wouldn’t have been enough.’

This silence is longer still, tender and full.

‘When did you get so sensible?’ asks Remus at last.

‘Dunno.’ Sirius shrugs good-naturedly. ‘Reckon it’s sexually transmitted.’

Remus’ laugh is a glorious thing, and it makes Sirius fall a bit more in love with him again.

‘So that’s why Hallowe’en is our anniversary,’ says Sirius, sombre now. ‘Because we were supposed to lose everything, but we didn’t.'

‘Defiant as ever, Padfoot?’ Remus’ expression is fond. ‘Still questing after all these years.’

‘Yeah, well, you can laugh.’ Sirius suspects Remus will, in fact, laugh, but he won’t mind it. ‘I know you think I’m some ridiculous romantic, forever searching for an impossible idea of love. I did set out to find a love that would make me stronger. And just when I was at my most broken, I got it. With you. Because of you.’

Remus moves like a breeze, out of his seat, around the table and onto Sirius in one elegant movement. He takes Sirius’ head in his hands and kisses him deeply.

‘It’s a good thing you’re so sexy,’ he says, leaning his forehead against Sirius’. ‘Because that was some of the most appallingly sentimental twaddle I’ve ever heard.’

‘Oi!’ Sirius swots at Remus’ backside. ‘I was pouring my heart out, you twat.’

‘Well, pour it back in, for Godric’s sake,’ says Remus. ‘I like this carpet.’

‘And I like having a boyfriend who isn’t an insulting dick, but we can’t have everything,’ says Sirius. ‘Of course, I’d also like friends who aren’t tremendous gits so it seems I’m all out of luck.’

Remus just laughs and lowers himself into Sirius’ lap. ‘You’re not still sulking because Lily and James don’t want to entertain you this year?’ he says. ‘I know you’re finding it hard with Harry being at Hogwarts now, but it’s normal for them to want to enjoy some alone time.’

Sirius shrugs. He’s not yet shown Remus Harry’s letter saying that sure, Sirius could sneak into Hogwarts to see him, having your overprotective godfather check up on you is what all the cool kids are after. Sirius responded by threatening to owl Ron with baby photos, but he doubts Harry was taken in. Instead he heads off a pout with a flippant comment about Lily and James playing Trick or Treat for grown-ups.

‘Hm, celebrating with sex, how terribly suburban,’ says Remus. He rocks against Sirius, teasing just this side of plausible deniability. Or maybe not.

‘You know, for someone who claims it’s not our anniversary you seen to be trying awfully hard to seduce me,’ says Sirius, a little shaky as Remus presses his lips to Sirius’ neck, warm and tickly.

‘Let’s gloss over the way you just accused yourself of only putting out once a year and negotiate,’ says Remus. ‘If, hypothetically, I were to go along with your bizarre fiction that Hallowe’en is our anniversary, what’s it worth?’

Sirius slides his hand into the space where Remus’ t-shirt has ridden up away from his jeans, not doing much, just touching the skin. ‘You stop pretending you don’t _know_ that Hallowe’en is our anniversary, and you get to choose how we celebrate,’ offers Sirius. ‘I’ll take you out to dinner, you can buy me flowers, whatever you like.’

‘Happy Anniversary, Padfoot,’ says Remus and he kisses Sirius again, a long, mellow kiss that allows Sirius to luxuriate in the taste of him, the tender press of lips and tongue that somehow still makes his heart beat hotter and faster.

‘You know, when you find yourself still ridiculously attracted to your partner after a solid decade together it is conventional to celebrate with a lot of sex,’ Remus whispers when he pulls out of the kiss, a little breathy. ‘Of course, I know how you hate convention.’

‘I could make an exception for you,’ Sirius offers generously.

Remus jumps to his feet, holding out his arm to pull Sirius up beside him. ‘Lucky me.’

‘Aren’t I the lucky one?’

‘Perhaps we both are,’ says Remus. ‘I’m sure you could make some great romantic song and dance about being lucky in love out of that.’

Sirius pulls Remus close and kisses him.

‘You know it’s true,’ says Sirius.

‘You know what?’ says Remus. ‘I think it is.’

 

FIN


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